#Decorative Tile sheet

[frkyildiz]

1/6 1/12 Scales Miniature Dollhouse Red&Blue Authentic Spanish Floor Tile Printable Download Miniature Dollhouse Flooring Paper Sheets Instant Download for Dollhouses Model Houses Projects

Cut and glue identical sheets next to each other to make the flooring sleek.

[swordsandholly]

Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

Part 6: Where…?

The first thing out of your mouth when you wake is a low, discontent groan as your hands fist the blankets around you. Your head and eyes throb. For a good several minutes, you remain completely still - no motivation to move from your semi-comfortable position. You really can’t drink like you used to, huh?

Eventually you work up the courage to crack your eyes open. At least the curtains are closed. The room takes a minute to focus, and the first thing you notice are the incorrectly colored sheets - lacking the usual floral print. You frown, grunting as you sit up. The second thing you notice is the t-shirt and sweatpants you’re currently wearing - not yours and easily a couple sizes too big. They have to belong to someone wide and tall to not be fitted on you. You don’t remember going home with anyone…

You take a moment to look around. It’s a decently sized room with minimal decor. A few art prints line the walls and the closet is in perfect order - separated by type and color. Though, most of it appears to be black. The bed is huge. Tall, too, you realize as you slowly slip your way out of it, nearly tripping on the long fabric of the sweatpants you’ve been dressed in. Glancing at yourself in the small mirror on the wall, you realize your makeup is gone and your hair is braided. There’s a dark wooden dresser and a matching desk with a laptop and sketchbook neatly placed on top. You wander over nosily, squinting down at the book. Oh shit! Oh shit, that’s Simon’s sketchbook. You’d recognize that collection of skull pattered stickers anywhere.

The sound of clinking pans and the scent of bacon slowly registers. Did… did you somehow end up going home with him? There’s no way, right? You remember asking him to dance, you remember him being surprisingly good and… and… that’s about it. On top of the dresser is your outfit from the night before, neatly folded with your bra tucked underneath. Your face heats and you cover your chest.

After a quick self inspection (and a nervous check for condoms in the trash) you decide you’re pretty sure you didn’t fuck anyone. Probably. Hopefully. What happens if you did? Would Simon tell John? Should you tell John? Will it make things awkward? Will he fire you? Oh, you really don’t want to lose this job. It’s the best you’ve ever had and you really, truly love all your boys so much. You press the heels of your hands into your eyes both to soothe the ache in them and to bite back tears.

You’ve always been such a stupid girl.

After giving yourself a few minutes to sit on the bed and properly freak out, flapping your hands in an attempt to get that nervous energy out of your system, you decide it’s time to face the music.

You slip your bralette back on before slowly cracking open the bedroom door. The short hall is mostly shadowed, lights off and the sun drifting in from what you assume is the living room. The door across from you is closed and to your left is a rather nice, spotless bathroom.

You peak your head out into the living room. It’s large and open, flowing into the kitchen as hardwood becomes tile and an island with stools between the two. Simon is the source of the clinking, apparently, moving around the stove like it’s second nature. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised he can cook - he’s a grown man - but there’s something about the way he arranges the plates, the from-scratch ingredients, that tells you he does actively enjoys it.

It’s cute.

Johnny and Kyle sit on a well loved couch just a few feet from you, both focused on some TV show you don’t recognize. A slow frown forms on your face, turning into shock as the door beside you opens. You nearly jump out of your skin as John appears beside you in a robe and plaid pajama pants.

A soft smile splits his face. “Mornin’, dove.”

“Och, she’s awake!” Johnny grins, throwing an arm over the back of the couch as he turns to face you.

You blink dumbly, head pounding and gut churning as you step closer to stand beside the couch. Without thinking you blurt, “You all… live together?”

“Course.” Kyle pipes up, looking at you as well. As if you were supposed to have known that already.

You melt to the floor in a hungover heap. “Oh, thank god!”

Johnny laughs. “Why thank god?”

“I was so scared I did something stupid…” Your voice cracks as you press your cheek to the cool hardwood. You didn’t fuck anyone, you didn’t embarrass yourself, you were simply taken care of. The relief alone almost makes you want to cry. Though, that’s probably the hangover more than anything.

“Oh, love.” Kyle reaches down to soothe a hand over your hair. “We wouldn’t have done anything like that, yeah?”

You nod.

“Sorry it scared you.” John murmurs, crouching to set a mug of coffee on the floor beside your head. “We didn’t feel comfortable sendin’ y’home alone.”

You nod again, slowly pushing yourself up to grab the mug. The bitter taste of black coffee makes you cringe, but it wakes your system up and seems to push your hangover down to a tolerable level.

“I should go home…” You sigh, not moving a single muscle off the floor where you currently sit.

“Not before you eat somethin��.” Simon calls from the kitchen.

You take the opportunity to look around the living room. The sun has been mostly blocked out by barely cracked curtains. There’s a little bit of each of them in it - artwork scattered across the walls. A few photos - one of John and Simon that looks like the opening of the shop. The leather pride flag sticker stuck on what looks like a toolbox doesn’t escape your notice. Probably John’s. You’ve never seen another man with such well cared for boots and leather coats. Maybe that’s assumptive. There’s a game boy and a PS5 behind the 4K television. Your eyes follow the rather extensive sound system to a massive CD organizer. There’s a short hall on the opposite side of the apartment where you assume the other two rooms are. Everything is so… homey. Comfortable.

“Wait, who’s clothes are these?” You ask suddenly, staring down at the oversized t-shirt and tightly tied sweatpants that pool at your feet awkwardly.

“Mine.” Simon shrugs, setting a plate on the coffee table for you before handing two more off to Johnny and Kyle.

“Comfy.” You hum, eyes zeroing in on the large breakfast in front of you - plate piled high with bacon, sausage, and waffles.

“Ye can sit up here wit’ us.” Johnny pats the empty couch beside him.

You think for a moment before shaking your still aching head. “Don’t think I should stand up yet.”

The food is even better than it looks. For a Brit Simon actually knows how to handle his flavors.

You groan as a particular rough throb stabs at your temple. “I don’t remember drinking enough to be this hungover…”

“Johnny can be very convincing.” Simon rumbles, stabbing a piece of sausage.

“What do you remember?” Kyle leans forward a bit to reach for his coffee.

You shrug. “I remember dancing. That’s kind of where it stops.”

“At least you got to skip the part of the night where Johnny starts rantin’ about chemistry math.” Kyle rolls his eyes.

“Och! Ye love my chemistry talk! It’s the structure of the universe! It’s-“

“Yap yap yap.” Kyle opens and closes his hand in a mocking ‘blah blah blah’ motion.

Kyle helps Simon clean up. You try to insist to let you help as well, but they won’t hear of it. John offers to let you stay the day and sleep off your hangover but you shake your head, wanting nothing more than to take a burning hot shower in your own bathroom - as fun as hanging around with them all day sounds. So, you slip into Simon’s room to change back into your own clothes.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Kyle rest a hand on Simon’s lower back. A light touch, but solid. You don’t have the wherewithal to think about it.

You peel off Simon’s clothes and put yours back on with a wrinkled nose. There’s something so gross about it, not that you’re clean right now anyway. Thank god you had the foresight to not wear underwire. You order yourself a car on your mostly dead phone as you wander back out to the living room. Your skirt suddenly feels far too exposing for the daylight.

You chew your lip. “My driver’s five minutes out… so, I’ll see you guys Wednesday?”

“I’ll walk you down.” John grunts, pulling himself up out of the arm chair.

“Oh, you don’t have to-” You pause when he gives you that look you’ve come to recognize as ‘don’t argue, I’m doing it anyway.’

You give a round of goodbyes to the others who make no movement to get off the couch, fully sunken in. Johnny has sprawled over the L part of the couch with an arm over his eyes and a water bottle in hand.

“Thanks for letting me stay over. Sorry if I got too, uh, sloppy or whatever.” You murmur as the elevator makes for the lobby.

John chuckles. “No more than Johnny ever does. I’m glad you came. Lookin’ forward to the next one.”

You heart skips as you nod. “Me too.”

John leans forward just as your driver pulls up, pressing a light kiss to your forehead. Your back stiffens and your stomach flutters - face hot as he pulls away.

“See you at the shop.” He nods, sauntering back into the building like he didn’t just give you a heart attack.

Bonus:

“No, ye need an oil cleanser first.” Johnny slurs. “Tha’s how ye get the - hic - the makeup off.”

“Don’t act like I didn’t teach you everythin’ you know about skin care y’muppet.” Kyle snipes back as he digs through the drawers under the counter.

“Workin’ on yer John impersonation, I see.” Johnny snickers. Kyle bats at his arm.

You just giggle, seated on the toilet in Kyle and Johnny’s shared bathroom and swaying back and forth. Simon leans in the doorway, watching as the two drunkenly try to help you get your makeup off. All three of you bursting out into another fit of giggles when Kyle squeezes your round cheeks to make a fish face. It occurs to him that he’s never seen you bare faced. None of them have. Not that you come in everyday with a full beat but even so, there’s something intimate about it. To him, at least. Something about you perched in their apartment, in his clothes, having Johnny smudge moisturizer over your face while Kyle braids your hair to keep it from tangling overnight.

The three of you fit together so well…

John puts on a stupid action movie. Something to distract everyone as you wind down and sober up before bed. You snuggle up to Johnny, unsurprisingly, tucking yourself under his arm with your head on his chest. He’s practically Pavlov’d you into constantly touching each other. Just like he did with the rest of them. He jumps a bit when you press your socked feet to his thigh, humming comfortably. There’s a stupid grin plastered across your face.

“Alright, off to bed with you.” John chuckles as you snore comfortably on Johnny’s chest. The Scot is equally asleep, your chests rising and falling in an asynchronous rhythm. John loops his arms under your back and knees, just as strong as he’s always been, carefully cradling you against his chest as he takes you to Simon’s room.

Simon follows, glancing sideways at your clothes in his dresser. You groan as John lowers you but don’t wake up - well and truly passed out.

Simon pauses for a moment before following John out, staring down at you. He’s no better than the others, the alcohol numbing his inhibitions. So, he reaches down, and swipes a thumb over your slightly parted lips. Just as soft as he thought…

He settles into John’s bed, the frame creaking under their combined weight. Neither of them are particularly slight, after all.

“Glad y’danced tonight.” John mutters, reaching over to turn off his lamp.

Simon just grunts.

“She’s good for you.”

“She’s good for us.” He blurts, immediately wanting to shove the words back down his throat.

To his surprise, John just nods, turning to sling an arm over Simon’s waist. “She is.”

A/N: Thank you all so much for enjoying this series with me, it means a ton! I’m sorry I’m not very good at responding to replies/asks but I really do love and appreciate you all!

Hope you’re pumped for the next part bc I am

[ventura-international]

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[smashboxgirl26]

i crumble completely when you cry

ph! katsuki bakugou x fem! reader summary: this wasn't the way it was supposed to happen, but sometimes mistakes yield the best results contains: proposal!! (for @/pityslash <33), kinda ooc soft bakugou but im blaming it on him getting a concussion, mentions of injury, lots of fluff hehe word count: 1.8k words masterlist

Katsuki awoke to a darkened room with white, tiled speckled ceiling cut into rectangles and an IV in his arm; you were sleeping in the plastic chair at his bedside, head leaning against the wall and your mouth slightly open. It was probably about two or three in the morning, judging by the dimmed light coming from the hospital hallway.

Fuck.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

He shifted around slightly under the thin sheets, grunting as he tried to move his (apparently broken) right arm to fit in the pocket of his hero costume. A sigh of relief pushed past his lips when he felt the little velvet box still stashed away, thankfully left untouched.

And god– fuck did his head hurt… but this wasn’t how the night was supposed to go.

You were still dressed up — makeup and all, heels sitting next to you on the floor, the pretty black satin dress he watched you show off before you both left for dinner: now bunched up in your lap between your palms as you slept. 

You were definitely going to complain about the crook in your neck when you woke up from the way your head was angled against the wall. You should’ve just gone home and slept properly in bed: but he knew arguing with you would’ve been fruitless — you’d refuse to leave his side like you always did. 

Katsuki let out a small huff as he stared back up at the darkened ceiling.

This was supposed to be your anniversary. He had it all planned out: flowers, dinner, taking a walk through the park near the apartment to get ice cream, proposing in the little ramada he’d gotten Hanta and Eijirou to decorate with fairy lights and flowers. His mother’s old engagement ring was what he’d nervously tucked away into his suit pocket earlier that evening; she’d given it to him the first time you met her — as if she just knew the outcome of your relationship. 

And yet, not even halfway through dinner he’d gotten a call about a villain spiraling out of control. 

He knew his apology was lacking when he pushed himself up from the table, telling you he’d be back as fast as he possibly could; and he could tell how disappointed you were at the fact he was leaving despite how you playfully urged him to hurry before you ate all the dessert without him.

He’d slipped the ring in his costume pocket thinking he would make it back in time for your walk in the park — but that went out the window the second he was caught off guard and blasted through an apartment building.

You shifted slightly, against your spot on the wall. Katsuki almost thought it was because he was thinking too loud.

Your eyes opened after a moment or two, and blinked once or twice at him before realizing his eyes were also open.

“You’re awake?” you asked groggily, scrubbing your eyes before pulling yourself up from the chair. “Let me go get the nurse–”

“S’fine,” he stopped you before you could get out the door, lifting his head off the pillow because he knew you would come over and scold him for it.

Shit he felt dizzy.

“Don’t move right now,” you chastised him — immediately abandoning your mission to rush back to his side and help him lay his head back down on the pillow. “Is that comfortable?”

“Yea,” he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “Don’ get the nurse yet… I don’ really want more fuckin’ needles in my arm right now.”

“...fine.” You pressed your lips together, concealing the lecture he knew you wanted to spew: him never being careful when he promised he would be being main point among those you wanted to address — yet you pulled the hard, plastic chair you were sitting in up to the bed and leaned against the mattress.

“...do you feel dizzy?”

“Yeah.”

“You got a concussion from your fall,” you turned your head to look towards the side, and he couldn’t see your expression anymore in the dimmed light from the lamp next to his bedside. “You also broke your arm from landing on it.”

“You saw?”

“It was on the news.”

You sounded on the verge of tears. He needed to apologize. He’d ruined your night.

“M’sorry,” he let his left hand drift over to where yours was laying on the bed next to him, his fingers catching between your own — grabbing you out of your dazed attention — “M’sorry I ruined our night.”

“You didn’t ruin anything Katsuki,” you shook your head, but he could hear the little edge of pain in your voice. “It’s not your fault… I was just worried.”

“I did, though,” he continued. “Tonight was s’posed to be just us walkin’ through the park n’ getting ice cream.”

“You had it all planned out huh?” You finally faced him again, tired eyes and a small, sad smile on your lips. 

“F’course I did, would y’expect anythin’ less from me?” 

“Of course not,” you humored him, bringing his knuckles up to your lips before planting a kiss over a small scab and pressing your cheek against it — staring faraway, somewhere his mind could never find yours.

“Why didn’t you go home?” he rubbed his thumb against yours. “Could’ve changed and been comfortable.”

You let out a small huff — “I couldn’t just leave you here. I didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

“You didn’t have to worry about me, baby. Y’should’ve slept comfortably at home, come and seen me in the morning.”

You didn’t answer; instead, pressed another kiss against his knuckles before letting his hand come back down to the bed.

“If you saw what I did, you wouldn’t be saying that.” — was all you left it at — you tried to get up to get the nurse, but he didn’t let your hand go. “Katsuki–”

“Just let me be a lil’ longer,” he slurred, drowsily. “Come lay down with me.”

“Kats–”

“Please.”

“How could I–”

“Please.” He repeated, and you gave up to the pleading look in his eyes. “Can’t sleep properly without you there.”

He shifted himself over slightly, watching you hold your tongue once again with a little snort, before patting at the spot next to him. You climbed up slowly, carefully, trying to be as light as possible to not let the little hospital bed creak under both your weights — letting yourself melt next to him, your hand resting over his chest. You didn’t say anything, just nestled yourself into his shoulder with a yawn.

Something about the way you were positioned made it feel like you were hesitant to touch him — as he was as fragile as glass. Even with your fingers resting over his abdomen, he barely felt them there.

“What’s got your mind all worked up?” he asked after what felt like hours of silence.

“...nothing.”

“I know when yer overthinkin’ baby.”

You looked up to him, sad eyes and all. “I was really worried.” You sniffed, burrowing yourself back next to him. “I was just sitting in the restaurant finishing my food until I got a notification on my phone about the news — and I clicked it and saw the video of you being blasted through the building. There was so much debris, I almost thought–I don’t know what I thought… It felt like I couldn’t breathe or–or think… I just ran out of there as fast as I could so I could get to the hospital. And then, when you wake up, your first concern is that you ruined the night?” You huff, angrily and under your breath but you didn’t let him see it. “I can’t believe you sometimes…” 

“M’sorry,” he repeated, this time drowsily— despite the disapproving click you let out in response, he wrapped his arm around you: rubbing small circles in your arm to soothe the tension you continued to let off. These situations were the only times you both switched roles; the only time he was the one who had to calm you down when usually it was the opposite.

“Stop saying that.”

“I am though,” he continued anyway. “For making you worry and cry when I should’ve been careful. I got a little reckless tryin’ to get back to you quickly. I just… didn’t wanna leave you stranded there.”

“You didn’t need to do that,” you almost scolded him. “I’m used to it, I understand what your job is like.”

“Told you though, I had it all planned out n’ shit — stupid bastard ruined it all…”

“It’s okay,” you pacified him. “It was just dinner, we can always go out another time.”

“It wasn’t just dinner though…” He stopped himself from continuing, but looking down at your furrowed brow knew that he’d have to give an explanation. 

“We’ve talked about marriage before—” he started again after a moment of silence. A moment to catch his breath, to let his racing thoughts and heart subside slightly. “—about us staying together like this because we couldn’t really ever see ourselves with anyone else.”

You nodded.

“And I thought–I knew that we were both ready… So I was gonna propose.”

You didn’t say anything, and he didn’t dare look down at your face — not when he could feel the heat rushing up to his face like he was about to pass out.

“I uh, had this whole speech planned out n’ everything,” he stared at the ceiling once more. “Even had Ei n’ Hanta set up flowers and candles in the park near that cherry blossom tree we always picnic near.”

You still didn’t say anything.

“M’sorry for just bringing it up now, and spoiling the surprise ‘cause I could’ve just done it later…”

“...are you really apologizing for telling me that you were going to propose?” you spoke after a moment. 

He could hear the slight crack in your voice, and he looked down to see that his suspicions were correct — you were crying.

“Don’ cry,” he tried to wipe them with fail because he could only use one arm. “You know I get sad when you cry.”

“I can’t help it.” 

 “I know that this isn’t where you probably expected to get proposed to, but everything I said is true — I wanna spend the rest of my life with you n’ get those little moments with you. N’ honestly, as long as we have that, I don’t think it matters where this shit happens.” He shifted around slightly, before you could stop him: sitting up to properly face you and pulling a little velvet box out from his pocket. “Marry me?”

“Of course I will,” you tried to wipe away your tears before falling into his embrace — pausing after he let out a hissing sound. “I’m calling the nurse for real now.”

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Fabricated Reality AU part 1 (Yanderes x reader)

This is a series where I put all my era 3 OCs in Situations™, so all 5 of them would kind of battle over you

Introduction

You woke up in a cold sweat. You panted as your eyes darted around the room, struggling to lift the fog clouding your mind, where are you? It appears to be in a bedroom with clinically bright and cold lights, white walls, and very little furniture. You realize you're sitting on ivory sheets, and the mattress beneath you is neither soft nor firm. It's adequate.

You spent a few more moments looking around, trying to make sense of it all. There is no personality in this room, no paintings or shades other than white. The clothes on your back also match the surroundings, it resembles a hospital gown, down to its scratchiness and stiffness.

Cradling your head, you cautiously shifted yourself to the edge of the bed and set your feet down. The tiles are cold and you frowned at the unpleasantness of it. However, you're more upset that you couldn't remember what brought you into this predicament in the first place. Hell, you don't even remember anything at all. Who were you? What were you?

You rubbed your face and sighed, but upon lifting your head up, you were surprised to see a door that wasn't there before. You looked around once more for any context, but you found none.

You inched towards it, carefully reaching out for its doorknob and twisting it. Your ears perk up when you hear a click, as you're familiar with the concept of an unlocked door.

You pulled it open and exited your room, emerging into a grand, beautiful marble hallway adorned with chandeliers and side tables shouldering vases of exotic flowers. The air is crisp and fresh despite the absence of open windows.

At the end of it, lies the mouth of a set of grandiose stairs. You made your way towards them, hearing the muffled chatters growing more and more distinct with every step.

"...no luck, I still don't get what the fuck is up with them. Montgomery almost split his nails trying to pry the windows open, the crowbar you found snapped too. I kept finding myself back here whenever I stepped out through those huge doors." You heard a deep, masculine voice, exasperated.

"Items in the pantry and kitchen replenish themselves at dawn in seemingly impossible ways." Another voice, this time softer and more honeyed, added to the conversation.

You poked your head out from the corner. From above, you saw four men sitting on their sofas and loveseats. They seem to be discussing something.

"It's so hard to find a room, the doors lead me into a different place each time. It's frustrating whenever I open my wardrobe, I'll find myself in the garden." You listened to them complain. One of them stood out; they hadn't said a word yet. The other three were vocal.

The quiet one flicked their gaze up, landing on you. It definitely spooked you, enough to retreat back behind a wall. You felt your heart pounding in fear as you brought your head out again to see what the situation was.

The person, with luscious, inky locks and emerald eyes was on their way to the stairs. They moved so elegantly and fluidly, that it appears the rest of the group didn't notice that they had left the conversation entirely.

You panicked and instinctively bolted in the direction of your room. You reached for the doorknob and swung the door open, retreating into the white space.

Shutting the door behind you, your shoulders heaved up and down as you tried to recover from your anxiousness. It was distracting enough to blind you to the fact that this isn't the room that you work up in.

"...Sweetheart?"

You whipped your head back to see a man with unkempt, brown shaggy hair and messy stubble. His dark eyes were wide open as he watched you through the strands with his mouth open agape. Your eyes shifted to the surroundings, it appears to be a rustic, farmhouse bedroom with vintage decor and furniture. Anything white, yellowed with age, which includes the floral-print comforter that he's sitting on.

You tried to get out of the room, but you found that the door disappeared behind you. Dread set in when he suddenly rushed over to you, a panicked yell escaped your lips when he engulfed you in his arms.

"It's you, it really is you..." Your nerves calmed when you realized that he meant no harm, you found that he appeared impossibly tall, needing to reach your eye levels by kneeling. The man spent a few more seconds sobbing on your shoulder, his arms tightly constricting you as if you were going to disappear at a moment's notice.

He sniffled, pulling away and revealing his teary, bloodshot eyes to you. The tip of his nose is red from crying, you assume that he's been doing this for a while now.

"H-how did y'get here? Are you okay? Did anyone hurt ya'?" He lets go of you to examine your body. He checked your arms, your face, and even the temperature of your forehead, using the back of his hand. You noted the heavy, southern accent in his voice.

You simply stared at him as he stroked your cheeks, pushing any stray hairs behind your ears. It felt... pleasant. You don't think that he's posing any danger to you, but you're still wary of him. Is he mistaking you for someone else? You have never met him before. Though, you couldn't remember much of anything before this. Perhaps he was someone important to you.

"Please say somethin', darlin'." His eyebrows knitted in confusion and worry. "Anythin', please... I need to know if you're okay." The man held your head in his large hands, keeping it in place and slightly mashing your cheeks together until your lips puckered.

He pressed a kiss on your forehead. "Please?" He begged, becoming desperate as each second passed.

You pried his hands away and opened your mouth to say something, but unfortunately, you couldn't say anything coherent. Not even gibberish, you could only make short, forceful shouts and groans that sounded like you were in agony. And in a way, you were, because you're becoming increasingly distressed over your inability to speak. You could comprehend language, but you couldn't express it.

The man, seemingly sensing your terror, quickly hushed you by allowing you to retreat into his strong arms. "Shh... Shh.... It's okay, It's okay honey. W-we're gonna figure it out." He pecked you on the crown numerous times to try and calm you down. Luckily it did, or he would have lost his mind too.

"Oh, you poor thing. What happened to ya'...?" He mumbled in your hair.

You stayed like this for a while, enjoying the warmth his body provides. You shivered a bit at some point, finding his heat wasn't enough to stave you from the frigidness of the room.

"I reckon yer' pretty cold, only havin' that on yer back." The stranger pulled away to take his ratty, chore jacket off. "Here, let me help ya." He wraps it around you, and you instantly feel much better than before.

You tried to thank him, but all that escaped was a loud yell. It looks like you couldn't speak more than one syllable, nor could you necessarily control the volume of your voice.

He ushered you to the bed, where you sat on the edge, while he was still on his knees in front of you. He looked away momentarily, thinking of what to ask you. He must have thought you were acting strange, outside of his own version of you, as he proceeded to ask:

"Do ya'... remember me?" He enveloped your hands in his, and he brought it to his lips. His eyes were hopeful, but you knew he was bracing for the worst.

You hesitantly shook your head. You saw his shoulders sag in devastation.

"No, you- you must have heard me wrong. Do you remember me- do you remember us? The times we spent together, the nights we had..." He looked deeply into your eyes, to find anything, a glimmer of recognition no matter how vague. But he found nothing aside from a growing fear. "...Nothing...?"

You shook your head again, feeling guilty and pity towards him as he released a choked sob.

"Really...? You, you don't remember me?" He whispered tears rolling down his face again. Some landed on your hands.

You gave him a sympathetic look as you nodded.

"Oh. Um..." He sniffled, wiping his tears away. You gave him a moment to regain his composure.

You tried asking what his name was, but it came out as a single shout; making him jolt. Seeing that there is no way to reliably communicate verbally, you resorted to using hand gestures. It took you a few attempts and a lot of pointing, but eventually, he understood what you wanted from him.

"Montgomery. My name is Montgomery, ya' used to call me Monty." His face told you everything, you knew it crushed him to reintroduce himself.

You nodded, but before you could even 'ask' him more questions, you heard a door opening.

Turning your head to the source, you saw the same man who you were initially running away from. Seemingly surprised at the sight before him.

The door that he entered disappeared behind him, trapping the three of you in this room, but the green-eyed man didn't seem too concerned about that. You couldn't predict any discernible pattern in this reality.

It appears as if he's frozen in place, his pupils blowing wide as it landed on you. It's unnerving, so you got up and hid behind Montgomery. When the other stranger tilted his head to look at the other man, his pupils constricted considerably.

The atmosphere felt much colder, much more menacing than before. Montgomery tried to lighten it up by joking: "Lookin' for the shitter? Well, it ain't here sadly."

You surmise that the doors would lead to random places, even if it was physically impossible.

Montgomery wrapped an arm around you. "This is my spouse, they just burst in from one of those magic doors. Somethin's wrong, though. They can't speak, they couldn't remember me either."

You were unnerved at how the other man never blinked, just staring at the two of you owlishly.

"Maybe yours would show up later today or tomorrow. But just... Just be ready to have them break your heart like this." Montgomery laughed bitterly as he stroked your hair.

"What is your name?" His smooth, commanding yet gentle baritone voice asked you. It appears that he's expecting a certain answer.

You dug deeper into Montgomery's side, knowing that you can't say it.

"It's (name). They understand English and they can make noises... really loud ones too, but they can't say words." Montgomery answered for you. "Oh! And, Sweetie, this is Yves. He's also tryin' to figure out how this place works."

You nodded and brought your attention back to Yves.

There were a few beats of silence until it was broken by your frantic yelling; you saw the door materialize itself behind the lithe man and it disturbed you to no end. Montgomery struggled to hush you, as Yves stood there unmoving.

"...I see." He finally replied, holding a hauntingly blank look on his gorgeous face. Yves stared at you for a duration that made you and Montgomery much more uncomfortable. You felt like the stranger was etching every groove, every trace of your identity into his brain. You felt naked.

He closed his eyes and took a deep but silent breath. "Please excuse me, I have somewhere to be." Yves finally dismissed himself and left the room, softly closing the door behind him. It then, phased out of existence, leaving a smooth yet somewhat peeling, aging wall. It blended in with the area.

Yves appeared in the middle of the living room again. Where he found himself facing an audience, perplexed and disturbed at the fact that Yves suddenly manifested out of thin air. But it wasn't as bad as their first encounter with such anomalies, these had happened enough for them to accept it as somewhat mundane.

Yves stood there, averting his gaze as a stray tear rolled down his cheek. He appears to be preoccupied with something, as he didn't wipe the droplet off, instead allowing it to drip down his chin.

"What happened?" Asked the man who bore a familial resemblance to Yves, except he had copper eyebrows and hazel irises. He lounges leisurely on the sofa, holding a flute of champagne between his manicured fingers.

Yves spared each of them an unreadable glance, before wordlessly walking away.

[squiddy-god]

⚜︎⪻My Beast⊰♥︎⊱My Rose⪼⚜︎

⊰An Instant Before A Gaze⊱

⊰Yandere beauty!Argenti x beast!reader⊱

⊰Previous||masterlist||next⊱

Potential part one??? This is based off of a little prompt i saw here<3 So I decided to write this for Argenti because the brain rot is so real for him.im so in love with him augh~ I love men who are so hopelessly in love that it drives them crazy. 

Request are open don't be shy Cw : knight/beauty Argenti, beast reader, mentions of discrimination, depictions of violence, yandere themes, yandere Argenti, obsession, reader is cursed, imprisonment, reverse kidnapping?? Argenti will NOT leave,he's kinda delusional, insecurity, slight body horror (will bold so you can skip), Argenti “i can fix them”  5.2k 

The sweet rays of the sun cast gossamer streams of light past the clouded lattice windows and illuminated fleeting slivers of the once opulent room. Far from its glory the space lay cold and torn asunder- no longer did it hold the warm laughter of its once noble occupant, but rather the cold emptiness of a long jaded heart. White silken curtains hanging limply from their rails, shredded and ragged, a once golden chandelier flakes its gilding having long since crashed to the tiled floor. Long jagged claw marks decorate the beautifully embroidered carpets, their once splendid depictions of scrolling and florals lost to the harsh sands of time, crumbling in the hands of a beast. The chairs and lounge are covered by the same white sheets, edges torn and falling slightly. A four poster bed sits on the right wall, opposite to the sitting area and long fizzled out fireplace, the velvet curtains are all but ripped off, draped across the floor like pools of deep wine, so desperately clinging to the wooden beams of the bed to stay on. Shadows cast the inside of the heavy curtains and soft bed, the only place seemingly spared the wrath. silk pillows and fine sheets, downy blankets piled to give some false hope at comfort. Despite their apparent disarray the red velvet curtains of the bed are not torn, simply tugged at with their golden cords long forgotten. 

The mirror on the vanity by the bed is shattered, its cruel glass shards reflecting in mocking defiance as the sun hits them, their edges speckled with a dark brown substance that now seemed to flake away. Somewhere above the fireplace is a portrait, its frame a gilded gold. Each brush stroke echos an angry mocking jeer, yet depicts the warm smile of a painfully human creature.

 Outside the castle is a beautiful sight, its deep carved stone once a shining white now weathered to a melancholy gray, yet it still held the same fairytale quality. Many towers and rooms, a striking circular building attached to the main castle with what seemed to be a glass ceiling, and behind it what seemed to be the same style but further back with smaller rooms to the side. A large sprawling garden surrounded the back of the castle, with verdant green hedges and many blooming flowers. Stained glass and latticed windows gave way to beautiful arches and delicate gothic architecture, sprawling vines climbed up the sides of the stone and made their home in the grooves of the structure so their flowers could bloom. Perhaps most striking was the tallest tower, a spire pointed defiantly at the sky as if to reach out and touch the clouds, for this is the room of the most beloved child of the once noble house. A room that now sits in dishevelment. 

Beyond the tall iron gates of the castle lay the forest, with its tall trees of emerald green that seem to thin out the further away from cursed place it goes. Deep under tree cover is a once well traveled path, its dirt road now being encroached by wandering plants and flora, wild flowers spring fourth in lush bundles of pink and golden hues. While the forest may seem a beaut sight, the closer one drifts towards the castle grounds, the more a sense of lamentation twists the land. The trees seemed to reach out with warped limbs, contorting, mangling into cruel hands. Unmaintained and forgetting the love they once knew, as a broken ballerina continues to spin forever on her music box, so will the trees and vines continue to grow. 

In the village there is a tale told as a bedtime story to sleepy children. 

Long ago there was once a noble family who lived in grandiosity, squandered wealth and cruel hearts. To them it seemed every being was a mere bug under their shoes, their servants were treated cruelly as if they were animals. But one day that changed, a blessed child had been born from amongst the bramble, with a tender and mellow heart they seemed to possess a noble spirit. For a time the cruelty continued from the family, but the young Liege spoke out and begged for their family to end the cruelty, and it began to ebb away like a receding tide. However this was only in the eyes of the young liege, for behind the intricately carved closed doors it only escalated. Soon the most beloved child of the noble house became the bearer of the burden, cruelty that lashed their mind and heart was given as freely as air. Yet their noble heart remained steadfast and endeared them to the servants of the house, the kindness that licked their wounds was given without any expectation. 

However one day in spring, the last cold wisps of wind giving way to bountiful flowers and warm sun, a party was held at the castle deep in the forest. An enchantress had heard of the family's cruelty and after hearing the tales became enraged and went to the castle to see for herself. She disguised herself as a poor beggar woman and rapped upon the doors seeking only solace from the cold April rains. They did not turn her away, no… instead they brought her inside all while laughing a malicious hollow laugh. They paraded her around as the sorry beggar women, mocking and jeering at her as if pushing her to the cold was simply too kind a jester. The young liege urged them to stop, protesting about how the display was sickening. All that they were met with was the glares of the family and a harsh slap for their audacity and disobedience. 

The display was enough for the enchantress to reveal herself, the eyes of the nobles went wide in shock and fear, left to cower like the animals they had treated people as. Before the enchantress could curse them however, the young liege stepped forward and pleaded for them to be spared, they were prepared to bare the burden of their cruelty if it meant they did not suffer while they paid for what they had done, for the young liege could not stomach the thought of others suffering. The sincerity of the young liege moved the enchantress and so she granted their wish. 

“My child, for your noble heart…i shall grant you your wish, tho it brings me no joy to do so” and so the curse was placed. Upon the noble family their curse was to meet a tragic end, yet their fate would not be cruel, it would be quick and merciful, they would continue to live for one year before meeting their end. whatever they did in that year would determine how they died. The cruelty of the curse was placed on the young liege, only 16 years of age. 

Their scream pierced the room, body morphing as their bones twisted and cracked, distorting with a defining crunch. Teeth fell out as if rotting from their head giving way to bloodied fangs and a gnarled muzzle. Tall and imposing they were a beast, a cruel and evil monster with no trace of what they had once been. Nails splitting the skin of their fingers and morphing into sharp claws and their cries become howls. Their spine snaps and mangles into something grotesque and resembling an amalgamation of animals. Their skin grew fur as they lay in a heap on the floor.

The guest began to flee in a rushed panic at the sight. Even their own family whomst they had taken this fate for fled. The fleeting stares of disgust seared like hot irons for even their family had forsaken them. For they were a monstrous and ugly sight, a cruel beast and evil monster that held none of the warmth of the young liege. But one day the beast will be slayed and the nightmare will end, and the knight who vanquishes that evil will be hailed a hero.  

All stories have hidden verses, tucked away within the yellowed pages of a book to never see the light of day or feel the warm touch of gentle fingers. In this story there exists such a verse written in ink at the end of the tale. It is scrawled hastily and has long been forgotten. 

“My poor weary child, it brings me no joy to see you suffer for the sake of those undeserving of your kindness…so I will grant you a reprieve from fate's cruel touch.” The beast looked up to the enchantress, their eyes still painfully human. “When you find someone who loves you as you are, and when you can love them intern, you shall be spared this cruel fate” a laughable mercy. True love tender kiss, the only amnesty for a being that has forgotten how to love…how to be loved. 

Warm light steeps the small cottage in a brilliant amber hue, the sheer curtains flutter in the gentle breeze let in from the open window. Their ruffled edges flutter as the sun as the tall man moves around the kitchen. Roses seem to saturate every corner of the cottage, blooming forth bursts of color that sit in stark contrast to the light stone walls. Strong oak beams and supports carry hanging planters with beautiful delicate flowers that seem to cascade over the baskets languidly, petals resembling the softness of newborn downy feathers bathe in pastel colors and mingle with the decor of the kitchen. Ceramic plates scrawled with delicate rose patterns as well as various mismatching cups, a large spear rests mounted to the wall its slender blade a deep crimson red, its intricate adornments resembling that of embracing vines and brambles, prickling and dangerous yet wrapped around the handle with the reverence of a tender lover. Pristine and unblemished, treated with the gentle caress of calloused hands, wiped clean after every battle, every beast slain and monster laid to rest. 

The visage of the man conveyed the warm breath of spring, his flowing locks the color of succulent strawberries with each strand a thread of fine silk that beheld its luster with dazzling passion, sprawling viridescent fields as vast the heavens yet intimate as secluded meadows where the sun's light dances through tree leaves onto swaying grass reflected in his soft eyes. The beautiful hues of jade and emerald swirled without trace of malice, wielding only the bladed edge of fervent veneration for every sight that graces him. The ruffled white blouse that draped over him hung loose to his broad shoulders with the front laced in a way that still exposed much of his chest, silvery scars and dark cicatrix of wounds long healed adorned his body as jewels adorn the finest accessories of noble lords and ladies. The tapestry of battle that was woven, etched onto his pale skin served as a testament to his passion and honor, the gentle but fleeting touch of a gentleman that wreathes effigy of a knight, yet this tapestry was never hidden, it remained in every syllable spoken from his soft lips and dripped into his every noble action.

Conceivably, within the vast and intimate depths of his eyes layed a burning pyre where his tender heart was set ablaze. The flames of longing that licked at the very core of his soul seemed to beckon him, honeyed words of desire that whispered in his ear calling him to the abyss where he would gladly drown if it meant an end to the ache he felt. Yes gladly he would walk past the brink of lucidity if it meant an oasis in this dessert where he could quest this unbearable thirst. What read as simple unrelenting passion was simply the smoldering coals begging for air. 

Awe…

Admiration…

Reverence…

Adoration… 

Devotion… 

Worship… 

Love. 

A deep chasm that only one could feel, the very substance he breathed until his lungs burned for oxygen- yet every breath was intoxicating. Deep inside it fed the hot coals and set them writhing to a blazing inferno of sickly sweet obsession. He did not suppress his obsession, his longing, his ache, for how could he betray his love? How could he disservice his love by quelling the desire that burned for them alone? His entirety yearned for his love with the vehemence of a starving dog, licking at the bones it's been fed yet wanting for more. Wanting for his nameless love. 

Sir Argenti, a man of beauty, a man of passion, a man of love. 

A soft smile played on his lip, the wisps of steam fanning against his sculpted face, the heavy set of his brow, his sultry lidded eyes and long burgundy lashes that brush against his cheeks when he closes his eyes and sighs in content letting the warm liquid invade his mouth, the sweet taste causing a delightful crinkle to form at the corner of his eyes. Today was a special day and the knight couldn't help but sigh in a dreamy fashion, his chest heaving with motion as he moved to rest his chin on his calloused palm. The cup soon sits empty and discarded by the sink as he changes into his armor, the stark white metal a beautiful backdrop for the accents of gold that lay polished amongst the crimson fabric that bears the noble embroidery of thorns. The clank of his boots echo happily as his gloved hand grips the shaft of the mighty spear, eyes gleaming with an air of determination. Sunlight cast a pleasant warmth on his features as he basked in the glow of such a beautiful morning, the sweet smell of his flowers fluttered in the air and he couldn't help the airy chuckle that left his lungs as he plucked a rose from its bush. Sweet Carmine petals that embraced each other in tight spirals before fanning out beautifully at the edges to give a full look. 

Clanking of silver boots against well trodden cobblestone paths echoed in the meryment of the small town, bakers set fresh loaves of bread and sweet cakes out with their steem wafting into the breeze, children ran and giggled merrily in the street kicking a ball, people wave and greet him, his trademark locks of ruby pour over his back and stop at his waist as he walks. 

“Ah good morning sir argenti” a woman greets, she sits telling a story to a small gaggle of children. “Good morning m’lady, you are as beautiful as this fine mourning” he says with sincerity. Complement, praise, and poetry always seemed to fall so naturally from him, perhaps it was his constitution as a knight or it was just in his nature, whatever the case he felt it his duty to make everything know how beautiful it truly was. The woman smiled and turned her attention back to the wide eyes of the children. 

“What happened next!” one of them asked, no doubt having already heard whatever tale it was countless times. “They were turned into a horrible monster! With snarling fangs and large horns! Pitch black eyes and mangy fur” the woman told, moving her hands to mimic the horns as she pretended to growl to scare the children. “Ah, this story again” argenti thought to himself quietly, his smile fading ever so slightly. Ever since he was a wide eyed boy he never liked the tale, it was not a tale steeped in myth and magic, the pages of its book not yet yellowed by time as only one decade had passed since its horrid conception. 

A young boy of 17 sits around the fire with the other much older knight, their armor intricate while his simple, hair chopped short while his lays against his back pulled back into a low ponytail. The scarlet wisps of a crackling fire brush gently against the blackened cracking wood logs, smoldering sticks hiss and wheeze while a stew cooks over the fire. The older men and women laugh as they share stories, Argenti sits and quietly admires the color of the flame until something catches his ears. “Well- did ya hear? Say they were cursed something nasty” one man speaks animatedly waving his hands, the young knight's head turned towards the rambling man “poor kid- well..guess kid aint the right word now. More like a rabid animal” he sighs. “I dont think ive ever seen an animal as horrid as what was described” another knight chimes in. “Pure evil is what they say…a beast” it has not been the first time the ruby haired knight hurd tales of monsters, however this sat in his head until a year later the truth had all but faded into obscurity. Those too young to remember the tale simply left it to fade into legend, a bedtime story to tide children over, those who were old enough to remember refused to believe such fairy tales. But the beautiful knight believed, and in his noble heart he found no hate for the unfortunate soul. How could one so kind be truly evil? Even if their visage has been warped, surely the kind heart must remain? It was unjust to wish someone such harm. The words wrapped around his heart, constricting it until it burst with every new time he heard the abhorrent retelling, it was an ugly feeling that arose within his chest, as if it were a crushing weight or the moon plucking the tides of his mind to some dismal disgust. He had never once stopped the honeyed words that followed freely in his veins. 

“Perhaps their appearance has changed, yet a kind heart persits through such suffering” he ignored the oblong glance's people always shot his way, his gloved hand and gauntlet red upon his chest above his heart, the cold metal was no comfort to him. “Ah sir argenti, ever the optimist” the women chuckled. The skys stretched on endlessly, a sea of cerulean blue and gentle whispers of cotton white. Boundless and forgiving even with harsh rain or gentle downpour, he wondered if even if only for a second if the legend was truly just that. A tale eating the stomach of tragedy, spun with gold thread into something ugly in spite of its jewels. The thought played in his mind like a music box turning endlessly, he allowed his feet to carry him to the edge of the town where he found himself in a field of green. 

A sprawling field of soft grass that gave way to lush trees and overgrown flora. Breath flooded his lungs before he exhaled deeply, this was of course what he had come for, to see if truly the legend was only that, nothing but words scrawled on a page and bound in treated leather. Part of him hoped, desperately so, that it was true. Even if it was fleeting he hoped, if he was wrong then he'd find an abandoned castle deep in the forest, and if he was right then he would find a person turned beast with a heart that he, in his delusion, believed would be kind. So once again a knight set off down the fading path, but perhaps for the first time the knight had no intention of slaying a beast, but rather telling them of their beauty. 

The fading path and rough hike through the forest did not dissuade him, even as the blues of the sky faded to warm hues of orange and pink he remained steadfast in his determination until finally the path came into view once again and the tall iron gates fell into his sight. They stood tall and imposing, rusting slightly and flaking their once gorgeous luster. As his hand gripped the cold metal it seemed to push open with a piercing creak, never locked he pushed it open as the rusted hinges scream and wail. Ever courteous he pushes it shut once more, observing how the land basks in the warm color of dusk, he noted the sprawling vines and well maintained hedges, not overgrown or unruly, the sight astonishes him and fills him with the hope that he is right. What monster maintains beauty that has long forsaken it? He gazes at the large doors with their intricate carvings and heavy knockers. Much like the iron gate they seem to simply push open, the castle is dark, the beautiful double staircase wrapped gently in crown molding and intricate scrolling leafs and crests, yellowed glow illuminating the marble steps. It was grand, the picture of an illuminating fairy tail, the carpets were pristine as he looked around, two large pillars holding the stone carvings of angel-esque figures. The most surprising thing is the many flowers that sit in elaborate porcelain vases, fired with gold and pure white, roses of every kind, orchids of all hues dance with color in the subtle candle light, lilies and peonies mixed in with sprigs of baby's breath and queen anne’s lace. 

A squeaked gasp hits his ears, auburn red locks shifting as his paris green eyes landed on a maid. He perked up at the sight- a maid? There was a maid? Oh joy if there was truly a maid and staff then surely- “leave- please just leave” her voice trembled as she shook, the feather duster in her hand trembling. He was shocked before he realized the gleaming tip of his red spear didn't send the message he wanted. “Ah my lady, you need not fear, I-” she cut him off suddenly, having a rather indignant tone.  “The liege is not a monster! So take your spear and-” she angrily waves the feather duster when the door sitting at the top of the grand staircase slams open, the old hinges creaking as the deafening sound echoes in the quiet night air. 

Spring. That is all Argenti can think of, the cool breath of spring, the rushing of crystalline waters against smooth stones replaces the rushing of blood hammering in his ears. Ensnared his heart beat to the rhythm of their footsteps, a quick descent down the stairs accompanied only by the sound of wolfish feet padding against the marble. In his stupor Argenti did not miss the clawed hand extended protectively in front of the maid, the fur was thick and covered the large palm entirely as it did the rest of your body, sharp claws protruded at every fingertip as obsidian daggers, but there was an air of gentle protectiveness. In Spite of the pointed teeth and morphed animal-like features that warp your face, it remains unfathomably human. Anger, worry, and inexplicably fear, where displayed as the most beautiful stained glass mural, even the twist of your horns and the gentle downward sweep of your ears could only add to the haunting visage of something- someone once human. Pools of (e/c) flickered in the candle light, an enchanted lake whose siren song left the beautiful man breathless. A hopeless sort of breathless no air could satisfy, a breathless feeling only felt on the brink of death with a monster's gnarled fangs deep in your throat, when you are so stricken with fear that your very blood urges you to the brink of madness if it means an escape. It was not fear he felt. A sort of breathless that strikes the hot iron of longing, felt when one is so impossibly overcome with boiling love that it steels the air in their lungs, that if denied even a moment of its cause- death would be swift, it was not fangs he felt against his neck, not blood that made his body warm, it was the graze of a lovers soft lips, it was the warmth of blush that spread up his neck, a pit in his stomach felt only in the face of inevitable death or love. To be in love, to fall from heaven willingly wandering by another's side, to know pain in their absence, to kiss the scars on their mind and body as if you could will flowers to bloom sweet blossoms in their wake.

A hopeless sort of breathless no air could satisfy, for you alone could ease this burning in his lungs, simply turn your eyes, beautifully human eyes, turn them towards him and gaze at him longingly as he gazes at you. 

Before a single growled word could leave you, Argenti stepped forward, spear standing tall and firm in his grip as he fell into a kneel at your feet. Clad in the bright untarnished silver of his gauntlet, his hand outstretched as if reaching out to touch the sky itself and betwixt the plates of sterling metal rests a brilliant rose red in hue and pristine in its petals. His eyes roamed over your large figure as if to commit every detail to his memory. His actions, these feelings that flooded him were unlike anything he had felt, the only fair comparison in his mind being when he felt something was truly beautiful. A feeling without real reason, the feeling of beauty and this inexplicable feeling of longing, of love, could only be considered instinct. To love you was instinct, to fall to his knee rose in hand was instinct, the words he spoke next sent a pliable shock through the florid castle halls, forged by instinct yet tempered by the pure desire and longing in his heart.

“Marry me” 

Anger dies on your tongue as you stare down at the flamboyant knight, who you had assumed came to attempt your life, kneeling before you anticipating your response to his proposal…his proposal…the most gorgeous man you had ever laid eyes on just proposed…to you, a hideous monster. Surely this must be some kind of cruel joke. Ten years of this mangled body, ten years of knights with their spears and swords, their slings of arrows and suits of armor beating down the open door and speaking words of hate and torment, how they would save the staff from their prison, how they would no longer be forced to serve in fear of a monster. 10 years of what felt like lifetimes. “Leave this place” you growl raising a clawed hand in an attempt to frighten the knight, your voice booming and filling his ears forcing out all other sounds. A deep sigh left him as he returned to his feet, only reaching just below your broad shoulders despite the fact the man was quite tall himself. The sigh sounded sad, wholly dejected as he stood, you braced for the pain of his scream, the sound of armored boots hitting the tiled floor as he ran, perhaps even the cut of his spear that you knew wouldn't even get the chance to hit you before you had shattered it, but nothing came, instead without fear he reached for your large paw like hand and kissed the fur that lined the inside of your wrist. His eyes gleam as if polished by the newfound determination while he slowly brings his adoring gaze to meet yours. “My darling, would you truly turn me away from you?” his slender fingers clad in silver intertwine, delicate touch careful of your claws yet… it is not out of fear, but out of a tenderness as if he were scared you would be hurt. “I am afraid that i cannot bear to part with you” his touch was fire on your skin, every brush of his hands igniting that fear and anxiety deep in the recesses of your mind. From somewhere- who really knows where, the knight presents a rose in all its glory, red velvet petals a brilliant hue in the candlelight. 

“I am Argenti, may this rose convey my heartfelt affections- I find myself quite taken by you. I will not stop until I have taken your hand in marriage, not even the stars could keep me from the beauty you hold” no matter the delicate words he employed, the promise that tinged the corners of his speech was punctuated by a fire blazing deep in the bowls of madness. He must be mad, to gaze upon the abomination that stands before him and proclaim its beauty; he must be either mad or blind, perhaps both. Anger filled you again, the flowery words he used only serving to rub salt in wounds that never close, that voice in your head, the voices of all who had to bear witness to the misfortune of the once great noble house echoed with cruel laughter in your ears.

“Fine! If you will not leave then you may stay till you rot!” the sentence came out as a vicious growl, clawed paw seeding his arm as you dragged him into the castle, down pristine winding halls adorned with the same intricate that flooded the foyer and entrance, the mocking forced smiles of ancestors, once pompous lords and ladies staring as the scenery rushes by until his boots clank against cold stone as opposed to gleaming tile. The cold air whipped through barred windows as he was taken deeper, deeper, deeper. At last he was all but thrown into the cell at the very end of the hall, the rusting iron smell hung thick in the air as you glared down at his chest heaving. “In your persistence you will find no solace” was the last thing he heard, as the bars of the cell were slammed shut and the heavy fall of your clawed feet echoed away from him. Emerald eyes burned holes into your back, lids heavy and irises laden with adoration and affection, when your beastly form was ripped from his sight he turned his gaze out he bared window and upon the garden and shining moon that now pranced among the stars. 

You poor thing, so jaded by the ugliness of others who refuse to see the beauty in your soul. He knew you were kind, behind the towering walls you have built stone by stone there was kindness long forgotten. The knight saw it, he saw it in the way you rushed in defense of the maid, in the way you gave him a chance to run away, in the way your grip on his arm was neither harsh nor bruising, in the way your claws- like the paws of a wolf stretched and mangled to be longer like a humans held his offering of a rose gently even as you walked away. He saw that kindness even now as he stood imprisoned in your castle, unchained, and with the bars of the cell unlocked, easily pushed ajar by the gentle touch of his hands…every opportunity to flee, run back to his cottage and find another to love, but who was this humble knight to deny the blessing bestowed upon him? For you were his blessing, an end to this curse of loneliness, and he was your knight, the one who would end your curse of melancholy. He would show you the beauty you possess, to him you were a vision, an eternal blessing he could not live without. 

He was yours, whether you knew his devotion yet was simply writing on the page, he would ensure that you knew his love, that you knew you were loved. 

You are loved. 

[grandisknight]

welcome to philo | jeremiah

summary: Jeremiah knows your flower order by heart, and you plan on repaying the favor in kind.

tags: nsfw (mdni), developing relationship, gn!reader (no specific descriptors), banter, flowers, exhibitionism, oral sex/blowjobs, feelings, jeremiah losing his mind, swearing, m!orgasm, facials, (1) xavier mention

wc: 3.0k | ao3 | kinktober in deepspace masterlist

a/n: first time giving jeremiah some lovin' and i have no idea how it spiraled into this but we are here :D

Soft notes of plucked guitar strings and accompanying percussion filter the floral air of Philo, marking another quiet yet fulfilling day at play.

Jeremiah enjoys these moments of peace, lost in thought with his hands neatly arranging a new vase of freshly bloomed marigolds. 

It still took some time getting used to, truthfully. A life where turbulence and struggles amongst the cosmos that once felt like yesterday began to dwindle in the lanes of his memory. The warmth of Linkon City was a form of domesticity he had the privilege of knowing. Though, it didn’t hold the same shine to the bask of Philos’ cobbles and fields.

Even so, he’s made great efforts to carry on since. Jeremiah believes he’s done well for himself, and his cherished flower shop is a testament to it.

He dusts away the nostalgia amongst the skirt of his apron, gloved hands rough at the friction when his masterpiece is finally set. The golden petals stood proud, a reflection of their crafter’s touch. 

A chimed ring accompanies the completion in apt timing, soft footsteps echoing soon thereafter. 

The florist straightens his back, puts on his practiced award-winning smile with a chirped, “Welcome to Philo.” He’s ready to roll out his customer-friendly and marketing genius spiel when he pauses in his tracks, eyes widening in recognition. “It’s you!”

“It’s me,” you wave back in greeting. Your strides make their way to his countertop, where he excitedly pulls you in for a half-hug. “Business hours slowing down?”

“A bit,” Jeremiah says, pulling back and a smile in his eyes. “Are you here for your usual?”

You nod, settling your hands along the edge of the cool marble. Jeremiah is quick on his feet, scurrying around the tiles and swiping at certain pots. A handful of fine greenery, baby breaths for a splash of white decor, and the main star—pale blue florets with a ringlet of yellow blossomed in the center, each of the three pieces beautifully nurtured and bright. Bunches nestled in his arms like a newborn, he slides past with a playful wink and lays them before you.

“You’re the only one I know who still orders these kinds of flowers,” he comments, reaching for a pair of scissors. Procured from his hip pocket, he carefully snips at the excess leaves, green plates of flora fluttering to the floor.

“And you’re the only one who knows how to care for them properly.” You prop your chin into your palm, observing him in interest. The florist was in a world of his own. It was truly admirable to see someone so dedicated to a craft as intimate as floral arrangements. 

“The best in Linkon, no one does it like you.”

Jeremiah chuckles, laying out a pattern of baby breaths and myrtle atop a clean sheet of parchment. “I’m flattered. Don’t let the other flower shops hear, surely they’ll come and be nothing but a pain in my ass.”

You laugh with him at the thought, shaking your head. “Nothing wrong with keeping your competition on their toes.” 

Taking one of the three blue focal pieces in hand, you carefully push at its petals, silken soft to the touch. It was fascinating, a small piece of life so fragile yet present in your grasp.

By the time Jeremiah notices his last piece was missing—presently doted for in-between your fingers—the bouquet was only a centerpiece and hard string away from being complete. He clears his throat, noticing you jump in surprise, before a sheepish smile dressed itself across your expressions alike.

“Ah, right. Sorry,” you hold out the flower to him, a bridge from your heart to his. “Didn’t mean to interrupt the master at work.”

With a faked tone of lower cadence, Jeremiah offers a generous, “But of course, you are forgiven.” His best attempt of mimicking a kind and benevolent ruler, though it cracks towards the end into his regular voice.

You half-curtsy once the flora was out of your hands, raising an imaginative skirt in the air. “Oh, how gracious of you, good sir.”

He lets out a softer chuckle, before quickly wrapping the composition into a perfect bundle. A loop of string later, he lifts the flowers tenderly, one hand at the base and the other underneath the bedding of petals.

“For you, my liege,” Jeremiah jokes, though it strums his heartstrings when you let out the sweetest laugh. He could feel a flush tickle his neck, to which he holds in an odd form of defense with a clammy hand. The other is still outstretched, waiting for you to accept his graces.

To which you happily take in, eyes wide in appreciation and the flora reflecting in its glimmers. “Thanks, Jer,” you speak into the petals, inhaling them calmly and enjoying their fresh scent. “I owe you one.”

“No, no,” Jeremiah shakes his head, hands in his hips in turn. “I’ve told you before. These are always on the house for you, just as long as you swing by.”

“Mm.” You hum, before gently placing down the bouquet to the countertop. ��Still, it doesn’t feel right. To just always take some of your flowers with no real payment in return.” 

You were sure that wasn’t a viable business practice either. It’s been this way ever since you were first introduced to one another; you’d say hello, and Jeremiah would send you off at the end of your visit with a smile and selection of budding flora in tow.

“That’s—“ Oh, the words lodge themselves in his throat when he feels something warm touch him. It would’ve scared the wits out of Jeremiah, if it weren’t for the gaze that found itself on your hand—neatly perched atop of his. 

Jeremiah stumbles in his response. “That’s, ah, fine?” 

Fine? He wasn’t sure when it turned into a question, nor when did the air in his greenery space become so… impeccably stuffy. But Jeremiah just stares at your hand, processing it all before sparing you a glance.

“You don’t sound so sure,” you tease, tapping the pads of your fingers against his knuckles. In a blink, you’ve met him halfway across the counter once more—though this time, your noses were only a hair away and he could see his surprised expression so clearly in your mischievous eyes.

Your voice lowers some, paying attention to the growing flush that stains his cheeks. “Let me pay you, Jeremiah.”

“I—Wow, you’re pretty,” he blurts out. 

He meant pretty close, though ‘pretty’ wasn’t exactly wrong either. The sunlight dripping in from his ceiling rooftop painted a halo around the crown of your head, shadows gently shaping your face into a newly bloomed sunflower. More than just pretty, he thinks to himself. An absolute angel, even.

Jeremiah bites his lower lip in quick realization and embarrassment, though it only curls the edges of your smile further. “Thank you,” you say, tilting your head in thought. “So, can I take that as a yes?”

He considers this. “I have a feeling that if I say no, we’ll just be going in circles,” he says, more so to himself than in answer. Thinking out loud, letting the ideas process in the moment they occur.

“Maybe,” you shrug. “Maybe not. I promise I’m flexible, but I just think…”

You manage to turn his hand over, and much to his surprise, he naturally accepts the way your fingers slide into his. Warm, very, very warm. And soft. But more importantly, your hand is entwined with his—and he likes it. Jeremiah likes the feeling of holding your warm, soft hand.

When you squeeze his hand, it pulls him out of his thoughts and back to your words of, “You deserve to be compensated and taken care of, Jer.”

“I do?” He sounds almost bewildered at the fact.

“Of course,” you say, stating the obvious to his oblivion. 

Slowly, you bring your closed hands to your lips, looking past your lashes and enjoying the sight of rouge blush saturating his skin. A kiss as soft as those silken petals touches his knuckles before you pull away. Even through the fine leather covering his hands, he feels their presence.

It would be fine, Jeremiah thinks, if he passes away at this moment. If he lets the heavenly graces take him away after receiving a piece of love so tender, from someone he’s grown to adore—it would be fine.

And also, because it has his mind running a hundred miles per hour at the thought of wanting all of that and more. Put him out of his misery to save him the embarrassment of these heated feelings immediately at the forefront of his mind.

“Let me pay you,” you repeat, a quiet intent slowly sinking into your words. “Please?”

Knowing his voice would betray him somehow, Jeremiah only nods and says, “Alright.”

—

Jeremiah is a mess.

He normally prides himself on being organized, keeping things in shape and surfaces clean. After every bouquet, he would sweep the floors and recycle leftovers—even spray down the marble with disinfectant and wipe until it was sparkling clean. Like clockwork, he’d dust his skilled hands across the skirt of his apron and feel that it was another successful day. Whistling while he works, keeping up a tune to the radio or one from his imagination—Jeremiah’s day normally went like this.

Today had almost everything on that agenda. What would he call his, though? A special occasion, probably?

Those very same hands, now gloveless, found themselves tangling and toying through your hair. The lips that push together in an airy shrill of whistles are currently? Pushing out quieted moans of your name, head lolling back from the ecstasy of it.

Jeremiah shouldn’t be doing this. 

Uniform in disarray as much as his curls of auburn, his back practically engraving the countertop’s edge into his skin from how hard he was pushing against it. The zipper of his pants long forgotten, the fabric pooling around his ankles.

Oh, but Jeremiah realizes that there’s something so ungodly pleasant about seeing your lips hover above his cock. Tongue flat against his length that currently hides between a fine layer of cotton boxers. The fabric ran a shade darker from where the heat of your touch traces it, leaving quite an impression.

Jeremiah is a mess, at your disposal, and can’t deny that a part of him screams in joy.

“You,” he breathes out, somehow finding his voice amidst the lustful sighing. “I told you, we—we could’ve done this in the backroom.”

“And I said I wanted you here, Jer.” You press a meaningful kiss to his lower head, smiling when it twitches at your touch. A firmer press allows the stained spot to push past beads of pre to your mouth, and you hum at the tanginess through soiled cotton. “Besides, no one’s going to see us, yeah?”

“I-I mean, yes.” Jeremiah confirms as much, making an effort to conceal the shop with a wave of energy. 

To the naked eye, the glass interior of his shop houses his well-grown plants and marble befitting of its owner. To Jeremiah’s wide gaze, he could only watch the way you make your way downwards, kissing and caressing wherever possible.

“But it’s not going to last, and ah—hah, shit—“ He hisses when your hand squeezes along his length, and he could feel your nails lightly drag along the underside. “I can’t concentrate when you’re down there like this.”

It’s not the first time he’s managed to conceal his shop from the outsider looking in. Sometimes it was required, especially when Xavier tumbled in and out as he pleased, evol abilities damned and secrets afloat. It was, however, the first time he’s had to pull strings just so no one would see the show playing out at the reception countertop. 

A shiver ran down his spine whenever his eyes made contact with a passerby—fleeting, and wondering if they could somehow see past the veil. See how there was an angel between his legs, and that he enjoyed it.

You let out an almost pitiful hum, though the sympathy differs from the fingers dipping past his waistband. “Mm? I think you can, don’t underestimate yourself.”

The thought was kind, but even Jeremiah had his limits. His hips cant on instinct when your unblocked warmth curls around his length, only growing with need by the second. Swiftly, and much to his relief, you free him from those confines.

“Wow, Jer. You’re real pretty,” you coo, delicately raising your fingers from the cusp of his base to the curved head of his cock. “Hard just from looking outside?”

“Wha—No, I just,” he stutters, but even he can’t deny it. One glance to beyond the glass and back to your knowing smirk has him weak in the heart but strong where it matters. “Just keeping a lookout,” he strains.

Flush and stiff from the newly exposed air, you take your time in stroking him. An occasional press to the skin just below his tip has his knees buckling. He fit perfectly into the palm of your hand, a beautiful sight and weight to behold.

“Maybe let down the curtain then? I’m sure everyone would love to see their precious florist be deflowered like this,” you tease lightly.

‘Someone might see’ rings like blaring sirens in his mind—and for a moment, he seriously considers it. Jeremiah’s blush only worsens, the thought doing a number to his senses. He dares to raise a witty quip in return, but it melts into a gasp when your lips seal themselves over his leaking slit.

You have the gall, he thinks, to hum around his cock this way. And look devastatingly stunning too, eyes round in pleasure, all for him to see. To feel, to watch how you take care of him. 

His fingers cradling your head tighten some, though nothing too heavy-handed. Whether it is your doing or his, you make a slow descent down his length, jaw slacking to take in as much of him as you could.

If he thought your hands were warm, your mouth was an oven that neatly shaped and swallowed around him. He feels you huff, before firmly rubbing your nose to his abdomen and a garbled noise rouses from you.

“Don’t force yourself,” Jeremiah pants, gently leading you away from his nestled cock. 

You allow him to do as much, popping his head from your lips and smiling. The lightest string of saliva pulls at your bottom lip and stays with him—Jeremiah can only stare, entranced. 

“On the contrary,” you say, a slight grit to your voice from the loss. “I’m doing all of this because I want to.”

Room for argument falls naught when you return to his erection, and that devilish warmth warps his senses once more. With every bob of your head, Jeremiah’s wanton moans only grow in volume. You search for his hand—which, currently gripped the counter for dear life—and bring it to rest around your throat in permission. 

His fingers twitch over the skin, before realizing he could feel it. No way, no way. Curiously, Jeremiah presses his fingers closer to find that his cock occasionally brushed them, the shape all familiar and busied down your throat. It tingles, feels way too good, especially when you hum in delight.

“Oh, I’m about to—yeah, yeah,” Jeremiah rambles, abdomen clenching at the rush of searing heat spreading throughout. “Gonna cum, come, shit—!”

In the heat of the moment, his hand draws you away from his cock, throbbing and welcoming warm streams of his undoing. You work him through the spurts of release, leaning down with an open mouth to capture what you could. Some of it lands on your tongue, hanging off of the curves—a majority stuck to your cheeks and painted them in a viscous white, smooth and sticky all the same.

Jeremiah feels like a leafless stem, waning in the wind and completely blissed out by the time he comes to. His fingers massage your skull gently, and his half-lidded gaze blows wide when he realizes what an absolute mess he’s truly made this time.

“Oh, sorry, let me get that.“ He searches for his apron, only a few inches away and neatly crumpled in a pile. The pockets, somewhere in there is—ah, he pulls out a small handkerchief, pleating the square and bringing it to your cheek.

You follow his hand whenever it swipes at his excess cum, patiently waiting and watching with satisfaction rimming your eyes. Jeremiah is gentle, patting and swiping alike with the calm moment settling between you.

“There,” he declares, putting aside the fabric that definitely needed to be washed. A wave of decorum crashed against him, and he’s quickly pulling his pants into place. Bringing you up with him, he smooths out your hair and starts to ramble. “Are you okay? Was this alright? I know we kinda just, went for it and all, but I—“

You squish his lips together with a press of your finger, amusement clear in your sigh. “Yes, yes and yes.” You pull your finger then, tapping your own lip in thought. “If anything, those should be my questions to you, Jer.”

Jeremiah blinks, then listens to the pace of his heart and rise of his breaths. To which he deeply inhales and says, “Yeah, I’m great. Thanks, actually.” 

The blush settles into his ears this time, and you can’t help but reach for them in a light pinch. “Cute,” you mumble, though loud enough for him to hear—the red only deepens because of it.

“A-anyway, your flowers,” Jeremiah coughs, waving a hand sheepishly towards them. “They’ve been, well, paid for.”

You turn, picking up the lovely arrangement and hugging it to your chest in content. “I’m glad,” you nod, before pressing a fleeting kiss to his unsuspecting cheek. “All is well!”

Before he could even scramble to words, you were already halfway across the tiled floor and standing at the entrance. Flowers nestled in your arms, and a smile so brilliant it made them seem dull in comparison. “Same time next week?”

Jeremiah cups the cheek where you touch lingers. In his heart, the budding adoration grows another branch, his affections blooming steadfast. 

“Yeah.” He finds himself smiling back. “I’ll see you then.”

[moonlightazriel]

Chapter 3: Adjusting /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Y/N recieves a invitation she just can't say no to.

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Angst and fighting.

Notes: I've been writing this fic nonstop, help.

Main Masterlist

Worlds Apart Masterlist

Claws dug in the skin of her thighs, so deep that blood soaked the dark riding leathers, broken sobs left her lips and the tears burned her eyes. Breath in and breathe out. She tried to force herself into this routine, but each breath of air that invaded her lungs felt like glass shards cutting her insides. 

Her guts twisted, forcing nothing to come out, as the content of her stomach had already been discharged in the toilet, a few inches away from where she kneeled to the floor. She kept weeping, alone, on the cold tiles. Mourning for all that was taken from her once again. 

Alone, that’s what she truly was. Did the Mother deemed her so unworthy that once again she found herself lonely and numb inside? She was finally getting her shit back together, finally starting to see the world in a better light, and for what? To be left alone in an unknown place, to never come back to the life she was building.

Each sob was more desperate than the other, more hysterical, louder. She felt pathetic, she wasn’t raised to be like that, but her foolish heart insisted on feeling too much again, letting those emotions consume her would be her downfall. Her whole body shakes with her sorrow, making it hard to stand again.

She forced herself up, hands gripping hard against the wall, each step towards the bathroom were hard to make, but she forced herself, gritting her teeth and mentally screaming at herself, begging for her to be stronger, stop with this damn show. She just didn’t feel pathetic, she was pathetic. What would the witches say if they saw her right now? 

She stopped by the bathroom door, taking some deep breaths, trying to control the constant river of tears that made her vision blurry. In a harsh motion, she wiped her tears, clearing her eyes to see the mess she had made. 

Glass scattered around the room, from the broken mirror on the left side of the wall. The blankets were messy, ripped in different places and broken pieces of both decoration and furniture littered the floors. From the anger outburst she had after she was left alone. 

She wasted all her anger and now all that was left was the emptiness, that numbing void that threatened to consume her whole. The same void she was stuck into for months after the war, after she lost her family. 

She would apologise for the damages later, but for now all she could do was drag herself to the bed, falling there with her eyes closed. Silent tears kept falling down the sides of her face, she just lay there, waiting for the sleep that would wrap her in its safe confinement. 

But everything felt wrong, the sheets felt wrong, the walls felt wrong, the only thing that indeed felt right in that moment, was the faint smell of night-chilled mist and cedar that consumed her senses and pulled her into a dreamless sleep. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

Sunlight peeked through the window, forcing her to wake up. She blinked a couple of times, using her palm to shield the light and give her time to adjust. She jumped in bed, grabbing the discarded sword at her side. 

Swinging it around, she looked in confusion at the pristine state the room was, the same way it was when she first went there. It was like last night was some sort of twisted dream, if not for the pounding headache, she wouldn’t even remember what had happened there. 

By the side of the bed she found a bottle, a potion as she read the information across the bottle. She downed everything quickly, feeling the instant relief the potion brought, just like Yrene’s one did to her, the healer would constantly send medications and potions to the Witch Kingdom and other territories as the agreement demanded. 

The Great Agreement was a peace treaty signed by all the rulers in Erilea and other continents, to provide aid however they could. To rebuild a new world together, not letting our problems separate us anymore. The idea was brilliant but having to help deliver all those things to different parts of the world was sometimes very boring. 

Her alliance was scheduled to get more medications from Torre Cesme next month, delivered in Adarlan and some in Perranth. She wondered if they would have someone taking her place now, if she was as easily replaced as a missing piece of paper.  

Brushing that thought aside, she walked to the bathroom, a bath was waiting for her, a new toothbrush and some other personal things were also there. She brushed her teeth, then splayed some cold water on her face to wake herself up. 

She removed her clothes, sinking in the warm water, letting her head submerge until she couldn’t breathe anymore. As she raised her head, her clothes were gone. Maybe they had the Little Folk here as well. Mother knows how much she loved the tiny creatures whenever she had to stay in the woods, always bringing her flowers and little statues. They were so kind to her, maybe they were here too.

She wrapped herself in a towel, stalking towards the big wardrobe in the corner of the room. It was filled to the brim with clothes in various dark shades.She chose a pair of dark red underwear, ignoring the marks on her back in the mirror. Some scars littered her body, but the ones on her back were the worst ones, worse than the one on her face. 

She found a pair of dark pants, the fabric glued to her frame, easy to move in it. She adjusted her boots over the pants, opting for a short sleeved grey shirt and a black corset tied in her back, making her breasts spill from the cleavage the shirt had. She looked good, she finished by strapping her sword and cloak behind her back and brushing her hair. 

She took a deep breath, looking at herself once more in the mirror before she left the room, her stomach growling loudly, but she wanted to find Meraxes before anything else. So she opened the door, ready to find her wyvern. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

Azriel felt her before he saw her, his shadows running away from their leash to welcome the female at the dining room. She looked down, her eyes glued to the shadows dancing around her feet, like they were happy to see her. With a finger pointed to them, she watched as a bold strand of mist circled her finger and danced around it, she smiled at them, making Azriel’ blush. 

Cassian and Nesta were there watching the exchange with curiosity. Elain had just arrived too, and by the looks on her face as she eyed the new guest up and down, he could tell she wasn’t happy. Despite Rhysand’s warning, they still wanted to try, see if the Mother really made a mistake in mating her to Lucien, but something never felt right for him, and even more now as Cassian urged Y/N to join them. The female’s blue eyes scanned the room, and she tried to smile at them, waving her hand slowly.

“Come have breakfast with us.” Cassian said, Rhys had begged them to be friendly with her, to not cause any more trouble, as they didn’t know what her and her pet were able to do. 

“Thank you, but I need to check on Meraxes.” She really needed to see him, he tended to be very moody if he didn’t eat early in the morning. 

“He is actually sleeping on the biggest balcony we have.” She looked at him surprised. Deciding to join them, after all he wasn’t the only one that got angry when hungry. “These are Nesta.” He pointed to the female by his side, she was wearing black leather clothes, eyes filled with power. “And Elain.” He pointed to the petit female sitting by Azriel’s side, she had scooted her chair closer to him, a hand wrapped around his biceps in a protective manner. 

“Nice to meet you, I'm Y/N.” A plate filled with muffins, bacon, eggs, pancakes and a cup of coffee appeared in front of her. The smell was delicious, so she started to eat.

“Cassian told me you cut Rhysand open on your first day here, I've been wanting to do that for months now. Nice move.” The female, Nesta, started. A smug carving her pretty face. 

“I’m glad to help.” She joked, sipping on her coffee. “Just making sure there’s no valgs around.” She pointed, something still felt weird about him, being so similar to Maeve, after all she chose to look like him.

“It’s the fourth time since you’re here that you mention those valg things.” Azriel started, his gaze fixed on hers, watching as the corner of her lips turned downwards in pure distaste. 

“Demons from another world that infested my land and destroyed everything.” The table fell silent. “They had lots of forms, and they were very powerful. Some say that witches come from breeding valgs and faes, that the Ironteeth took after the Valgs while the Crochans took after the faes.”

“So you’re a witch? Looks like it.” The other female snickered, receiving a disapproval glare from both her sister and her mate. Azriel shifted uncomfortably in his seat. She caught it, her nostrils flaring at his behaviour. 

“Elain..” Nesta reprimanded her but the female giggled without any humour.

“Yes, I’m a witch.” That frown turned into a cruel smirk as she turned to Elain, neither of them wanted to be on the receiving end of that glare. “And I killed for less than this silly offence.” 

“Of course Elain didn’t mean it that way.” Azriel started, giving her a stern look as she tried to protest. What the fuck was wrong with her? “So what are your plans for the day?” He inquired, wanting desperately to change topics. 

“First, check on him.” She pointed to the ceiling. “And then i don’t know, find a way to get the fuck out of here maybe.” She shrugged. 

“Would you be interested in participating in some Valkyrie training?” Nesta spoke, by her instance, the weapon behind her back and the scars, she knew she was in the presence of a formidable warrior, and she wanted to see what she could do. 

“And what would this be?” Nesta started to talk about the Valkyries and their work, how they had won the blood rite and the growing number of female warriors, this seemed like a great idea, which made her accept. 

“Great, we see your wyvern and then we go?” Y/N nodded. Perfect. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆ 

The animal opened its eyes, slowly moving his head until he spotted a very excited Nesta behind his rider. Y/N rolled her eyes and lowered her hand.

“She’s a friend.” It felt weird saying this about this stranger, but it was the best way to convince him that she was safe. “And here’s breakfast.” She said, throwing the dead sheep Cassian had handed her before she made her way towards the balcony. Meraxes immediately caught it, its teeth crushing the animal as his tail wiggled.

“He’s beautiful.” Nesta spoke, mesmerised by the animal. 

“He’s a giant puppy, that’s what he is.” Y/N laughed as he pouted at her. “Alright, alright.” She turned to Nesta. “Not a puppy, he’s a very scary big deadly wyvern. Happy now?” Nesta could swear that she saw him nodding his head like he could understand her. 

“How did you get him?” Nesta asked while Y/N inspected him for any injuries. 

“They were made for us, we just had to be chosen. We bonded and I've been his rider since then. We’ve been through a lot together, I don't know what I would do without him.” She rested her head against his nose and he closed his eyes as their hearts beat in synchrony. 

“I can see the love you two share.” Y/N smiled at Nesta. “Does he understand you?” She let her curiosity take the best of her.

“He does, despite pretending he doesn’t.” She laughed. “Should we get going?” Nesta nodded. 

“Just a few steps down.” She followed the female silently, still feeling weird about the whole ordeal, but Nesta seemed like a very nice female, someone Asterin would love to meet. 

“These are the Valkyries.” Nesta announced as they entered a training area. Various females stood there, all of them wearing the same clothes but so different from one another. It reminded her of the witches back home. “Valkyries, this is Y/N, she will be joining today’s training.” 

The females greeted her with animation, happy to learn more fighting techniques. She scanned her crowd, a female with very bright blue eyes and freckles looked the happiest, by her side a tanned female with wings, just like Cassian and Azriel, studied her with a reserved smile on her lips. 

“Hello, ladies. I come from a lineage of strong warriors, females born to fight.” The females stood in silence, paying attention to her. “We are the Ironteeth witches.” She clicked her jaw, her metallic smile shining in the sun alongside her claws, the females gasped. “For centuries my people fought, every newborn witchling knew how to hold a sword before she could even walk.”

She pulled the long sword from her back, the dark grey blade swallowing the light as it was pulled out of its shelter. A amethyst was placed in the middle of the handle, and adorning the middle of the blade, shining with power. The black handle was cold to the touch and she felt the weight of the sword. 

“This is the Godslayer.” She lowered the weapon, placing the blade in front of her with respect. The females tried to look at the intricate pattern on the blade. It was as beautiful as Ataraxia. “The blade that help defeat the Valgs, a parasite type of demon that infested our home.” She turned her head to the side, showing her scar. “The blade many tried to kill me to have.” 

The scar itched, she remembered the yellowlegs jumping on her wyvern, claiming that she would take the Godslayer away from such an unworthy bearer. It was that bitch who sliced her face open with her claws, and it was also that bitch that laid unmoving with her abdomen open on the battlefield. 

“So I know a thing or two about fighting.” She concluded with a smile and the females smiled back at her. Azriel and Cassian stayed behind her, her story peeking their interest. Azriel caught himself wanting to know more about her, hear her stories about her land and her scars. 

He had come to training after a quick argument with Elain, she had claimed that he was very quick to defend the stranger and that she said nothing that no one else was already thinking. He left her after stating that he was just being nice to her and there was no need for her rude remark. Elain had turned her back to him and he was more than happy to leave her alone. 

“Who wants to go against her?” Nesta said, a couple of hands were lifted in the air, but Azriel stepped forward, ignoring them and clearing his throat.

“I’ll go.” She turned to him, her sword back in place. “Choose your weapons.” He offered, hand pointing to the weapon shelf behind her, she shook her head. Removing her cloak and her sword, clicking her jaw until her teeth disappeared. She lifted her hands. “Just your nails? Be careful not to break them.” He warned, unsheathing truth teller. 

The females made a circle around them, Y/N watched as the Shadowsinger prepared himself, wings clutched against his back and his dagger at eye level. She had impaled lots of enemies with those nails, a dagger wouldn’t stop her. With an iron nail, she curled her finger, urging him forward. 

Azriel felt his skin tight, her smell completely intoxicating. He lunged forward, his dagger clashing against iron, sparks of fire surging as the two slid together. He gasped in surprise as the nails kept intact, no matter how sharp the truth teller was.  

She kicked his legs, making him falter. He let his body fall backwards when a sharp nail got really close to his face. He punched her in the abdomen, making her trip a few steps back away from him, giving him the upper hand. They circled each other, like in a silent dance with a song only they could hear. 

She punched his face, blood pouring out of his busted lip, while her nose, that he had landed a punch moments earlier leaked a blue substance, by the scent, it was blood. The females watched intrigued at the colour, never seeing something like this before. They all watched in silence, learning her moves, how easily she moved, how she dodged his blows and how she attacked. A formidable warrior indeed, Nesta once again was right. 

She ran for him, jumping on him. Azriel quickly ducked down, away from her reach, just like she knew he would. She landed with her back turned to him, quickly spinning in the same spot, like a very skilled dancer. Azriel got up, but didn’t turn quick enough. He felt the cold edge of her nails scraping against his throat, her legs wrapped around his waist. Heat emanated from her. 

“And that’s how you die.” She whispered in his ear, sending shivers down his spine. She clicked her jaw, the sound of her iron teeth, the superior half hitting the bottom half as she bit the air really close to his earlobe. 

Azriel felt his blood run wildly in his veins, warming his heart and making it hard to think with her pressed like that against him. She quickly let him go, circling him and bowing a bit. 

“Thank you for the fight.” She turned to the females. “Anyone else would like to go?” This time, more hands raised in the air, she smiled at them, and Azriel found himself lost in that beautiful smile.  

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

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[badathumanemotions]

Hi, I really like your fics and I have a question. Can you write either a nsfw Elle Greenaway x reader x Jennifer Jareau, or a nsfw Elle Greenaway x reader where Elle is jealous of the reader for flirting with JJ?

For One Night Only

Elle Greenaway x Reader x JJ MDNI Masterlist Category: Smut CW: Smut, Threesome, Lesbian Sex, Nude Picture, Oral Sex, Face Sitting, Fingering, FingerFucking, Tribbing/Scissoring, Possessive Behaviour, Dom/Sub Undertones. WC: 11,185 (Not Proof Read)

Elle was in the break room, her thumbs dancing across the screen of her phone, scrolling through an endless feed of social media updates. The muffled sounds of the office beyond the door melded into a comforting background murmur, a gentle white noise to accompany her procrastination.

As the door swung open, a burst of laughter and chatter spilled in, and JJ stepped inside with a spring in her step. "Hey, Elle," she chirped, her eyes immediately drawn to the phone in her colleague's hand. It was an innocent glance, a casual curiosity, until her gaze froze. On the screen was an image that didn't quite match the office decor: a photo of you, naked, in a pose that could only be for Elle. The photo was candid, intimate, and JJ felt a sudden heat rise to her cheeks. She tried to look away, but her eyes kept darting back, drawn to the way your skin glowed against the bed sheets and the soft curve of your hips. It was a moment that was clearly not meant for her, and yet, there it was, seared into her brain.

The air in the room grew thick with the unspoken tension, and Elle looked up, her thumb hovering over the screen. She caught JJ's gaze, her eyes widening with horror as she realized what had happened. "Oh my God," she yelped, slapping her hand over the phone screen. "JJ, I'm so sorry!" But the damage was done. The image remained burned in JJ's mind, and she could feel her heart racing. She forced a smile, trying to play it cool, but the flush on her cheeks and the way she couldn't quite hold eye contact gave her away.

"It's… it's okay," JJ managed to stutter out, her voice a little too high. She grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, her hand shaking slightly, and took a sip to compose herself. "I just… I'll… I'll just…" she trailed off, gesturing vaguely towards the door. "I've got… I've got to get back to work."

As she turned to leave, she couldn't help but bump into you. It was an innocent enough collision, but the way her cheeks turned crimson suggested it was anything but. She mumbled an apology, her eyes darting everywhere but your face. She stumbled back, knocking into the counter, her hand reaching out to steady herself. Her touch lingered for a fraction of a second longer than necessary, and the air grew charged with something that was definitely not office professionalism.

You looked at her, puzzled by her strange behaviour. "Are you okay, JJ?" you asked, a hint of concern in your voice. She nodded, too quickly, and took a step back, her eyes finally meeting yours. They were filled with a mix of embarrassment and something else - something that sent a thrill through you. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just… I've got to go. To get back to work."

JJ practically bolted from the break room, leaving you and Elle to exchange confused glances. "What's up with her?" you wondered aloud. Elle looked at you with an expression that was both amused and apologetic. "I think she saw something she wasn't supposed to," she said. "It was just a mistake. I didn't mean for her to see it."

You frowned, not quite understanding. "What did she see?"

Elle took a deep breath, her cheeks still flushed with embarrassment. "It was… it was a photo of you," she admitted, her voice low. "A personal one, from my camera roll." She couldn't quite meet your eyes, focusing instead on the floor tiles as if they might offer some semblance of an explanation.

You felt a wave of mortification wash over you, understanding immediately what had caused JJ's reaction. It was a private moment, one that wasn't meant to be shared with anyone else, especially not your colleagues. But as you processed the situation, you couldn't help but feel a strange mix of emotions. You were upset, yes, but also a bit… excited? The thought of JJ seeing you like that, of her looking at you with desire in her eyes, was surprisingly thrilling.

Elle's cheeks were still pink as she apologized again, her voice sincere and filled with regret. "I'm so sorry," she said, her eyes flickering towards the now-locked screen of her phone.

You took a moment to process everything before finally letting out a sigh. "It's okay," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant despite the racing of your heart. You knew that the situation was awkward, but you also knew that JJ was your professional partner and friend, and that this was just a misunderstanding. "It's not a big deal, really," you assured her, flashing a smile to ease the tension.

For the rest of the day, JJ avoided eye contact with you like it was her job. Every time you passed her in the hallway, she would quickly look away, her cheeks a rosy shade of red that stood out starkly against her fair skin. In the briefing room, she fidgeted with her files, her eyes glancing up at you before darting away again. Yet, you couldn't help but feel a strange thrill every time you caught her staring. It was as if she couldn't help herself, her curiosity piqued by the glimpse she'd gotten earlier.

The following days were a dance of tension and subtle flirtation. JJ would "accidentally" brush against you as you both grabbed coffee in the morning, her hand lingering just a little too long on the small of your back. She'd lean over your desk to discuss a case, her breasts pressing against your arm, and you'd catch her gaze lingering on your mouth when you spoke. It was a game you weren't quite sure you were playing, but it was clear that she was enjoying it.

Elle noticed the change in JJ's behaviour almost immediately. She saw the way JJ's eyes followed you around the office, the way she'd laugh a little too hard at your jokes, and how she'd find any excuse to be close to you. At first, Elle was confused, but as the days went on, she started to put the pieces together. The accidental photo had sparked something in JJ, something that was now simmering just beneath the surface.

Her response was instinctual. A twinge of jealousy shot through her, and she found herself wanting to mark her territory, to remind JJ and the rest of the team that you belonged to her. She began to show more PDA around the office, her hand often finding its way to yours as you walked side by side, her hand resting on your thigh during tense briefings, and her lips brushing against your cheek in a lingering kiss when you left for the night. It was subtle, but enough to make her point without being overly obvious.

But JJ's glances grew bolder. You'd catch her staring at you during breaks, her gaze lingering on your body in a way that was unmistakably hungry. It was like she was seeing you anew, and it was intoxicating. You felt like the star of your own secret show, with an audience of one. You had to admit, it was a thrill, knowing that you had that kind of power over her.

One night, as you lay tangled in the sheets with Elle, the tension of the day weighing heavily on your mind, you couldn't hold back your curiosity anymore. "Elle," you whispered into the darkness, "have you noticed anything… different about JJ lately?"

Elle's eyes fluttered open, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You mean the way she looks at you?" she asked. She rolled onto her side, her hand tracing patterns on your skin. "I can't say I'm surprised," she said, her eyes gleaming in the low light.

You felt your heart skip a beat. "What do you mean?" you asked, your voice hesitant.

Elle propped herself up on one elbow, her gaze intense. "It's obvious, she's into you," she said matter-of-factly. "But don't worry, I trust you."

You swallowed hard, the thought of JJ's desire for you mixing with the reality of your relationship with Elle. "What if… what if we did something about it?" you ventured, feeling the excitement build in your voice. "What if we… invited her to join us? Just for a night."

Elle's hand stilled on your skin, and she studied your face for a long moment. You could see the cogs turning in her mind, weighing the implications of your words. "A threesome?" she finally said, her voice barely a whisper. You nodded, feeling a blush creep up your neck.

At first, she wanted to say no. The very thought of someone else's hands on you, someone else's lips against your skin, filled her with a primal possessiveness that was almost overwhelming. But as she looked into your eyes, she saw the excitement there, the raw desire, and something within her softened. It was a strange sensation, one that she didn't quite understand, but it was there all the same.

Elle took a deep breath, her hand still hovering over your skin. She tried to imagine it, to open herself up to the possibility. You, with JJ. The idea was both terrifying and exhilarating, a cocktail of emotions that had her heart racing. She'd seen the way JJ had looked at you these past few days, the way her eyes had darkened and her smile had turned a little too sweet. It was clear that the line between professional and personal had been blurred, and maybe it was time to embrace that.

After a moment that felt like an eternity, she leaned in, her lips brushing against yours. "Okay," she whispered, her voice husky with desire.

But before you could revel in the victory of your proposal, she sat up with sudden resolve. "But I want to talk to her first," Elle said firmly. You nodded, understanding her need to set the boundaries and ensure everyone involved knew what was happening.

The next day at work, you found yourself waiting with bated breath for the moment when Elle would approach JJ. It was during lunch, when the office was mostly deserted, that Elle took JJ aside. You watched from a distance, unable to hear the hushed conversation but reading the emotions on their faces as if they were an open book. JJ's eyes grew wide with shock, then heated with interest, and finally softened with a look that was unmistakable: she was intrigued.

After work, JJ agreed to meet Elle at a nearby bar. The tension in the air was palpable as they sat down across from each other, the dim lights casting shadows on their faces and the clinking of glasses the only sound in the intimate setting. JJ played with her drink nervously, her eyes flicking up to meet Elle's every so often. The wheels turning in her mind as she tried to process what was happening.

Elle leaned forward, her voice low and serious. "JJ, if we do this, it's a one-time thing," she began, her eyes locking onto JJ's. "We need to be clear about that."

JJ's gaze held hers, a mix of excitement and apprehension playing out across her features. She nodded slowly, swirling the amber liquid in her glass. "Okay," she .

Elle took another sip of her drink, her eyes never leaving JJ's. "And no strings attached," she continued, her voice firm but not unkind. "We do this, we enjoy it, and then we go back to being colleagues and friends."

JJ nodded, her heart racing. "I understand," she said, her voice a little shakier than she'd intended. She knew it was a risk, but the allure of you was too strong to resist. She could feel the heat in her cheeks as she thought about what was to come.

Elle leaned in closer, her eyes intense. "We'll use the stop light system," she whispered, her breath warm against JJ's cheek. "If anything makes you uncomfortable, you just say 'red'. We'll stop immediately, no questions asked."

JJ's pupils dilated, the excitement and anticipation building in the air between them. She nodded, her voice a barely audible murmur. "Okay."

Elle sat back, taking a deep breath. "Good," she said, her eyes searching JJ's face for any signs of doubt. "Now, there's something else we need to discuss." She paused. "No kissing on the mouth. It's a boundary I need to keep."

JJ's expression was a mix of relief and disappointment, but she nodded solemnly. "Understood," she murmured. The idea of not being able to kiss you fully was a blow, but she knew it was important to respect Elle's wishes.

Elle studied JJ for a moment, her eyes searching for any signs of hesitation. "Is there anything you want to add?" she asked, giving JJ the chance to voice any concerns or boundaries of her own.

JJ took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the effort. "I… I don't know," she said. "This is all so new to me." She took a sip of her drink, the ice clinking against the glass as she tried to compose herself. "But… I trust you both. If it's something you're okay with, then I'm okay with it."

Elle nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Good," she said. "Now, we need to set a time and place." She leaned back in her seat. "How about this Friday evening? At my place?" She raised an eyebrow at JJ, who nodded slowly, her cheeks flaming.

The week leading up to Friday was a rollercoaster of emotions for all three of you. You found yourself both excited and nervous at the thought of the upcoming encounter, wondering if this was a good idea or if it would ruin the dynamics of your relationship with Elle and your friendship with JJ. You couldn't help but feel a thrill every time you caught JJ looking at you.

Elle, on the other hand, was torn between the thrill of the taboo and the fear of the unknown. She knew it was a risky move, but something about the situation had her intrigued. The thought of watching you with someone else, of seeing you lost in pleasure, was a turn-on she hadn't expected.

Friday night arrived with the kind of anticipation that made the air feel electric. You and Elle were at her place, the walls of the apartment humming with an unspoken excitement. The living room was dimly lit, the only sound the low murmur of a jazz record playing in the background. You both knew what was about to happen, but the reality of it all still felt like a thrilling secret.

Elle looked over at you, her eyes dark with desire. She could feel the tension in your body, the way your muscles were coiled tight like a spring ready to release. She patted her thigh with a knowing smile. "Come here," she said softly. "Let me help you relax."

You swallowed hard, the anticipation making your throat dry. Slowly, you approached her, feeling the weight of Elle's gaze on you as you moved. When you settled into her lap, she wrapped her arms around your waist, her fingers playing gently with the hem of your shirt. You could feel the heat of her body against yours, and the scent of her perfume filled your nose, making you feel both safe and incredibly aroused.

She leaned in and captured your lips in a soft, sweet kiss. It was gentle and tender, unlike the passionate kisses you usually shared, but it was filled with a promise of something more. It was a kiss that said she cared, that she wanted this to be special, and that she was in control. You melted into her embrace, your body relaxing as her tongue danced with yours. It was a moment of pure intimacy, a silent reassurance that no matter what happened tonight, you were hers.

As the kiss broke, you heard the soft knock at the door. JJ was here. You could feel the nerves in your stomach, a mix of excitement and fear. You looked at Elle, her eyes dark and hungry, and took a deep breath. It was showtime.

Elle answered the door, and JJ stepped inside, looking absolutely stunning. She was wearing a tight black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, her hair cascading down her shoulders in soft waves. You felt your pulse quicken at the sight of her.

"Hi," JJ said, her voice a little shakier than usual. She held up a bottle of wine she'd brought as an offering. "I hope this helps."

Elle took the bottle with a smile, her eyes sweeping over JJ's figure appreciatively. "Thanks," she said. "Why don't you have a seat?"

You remained perched on the edge of the couch, your heart hammering in your chest as you watched the two of them interact. JJ's eyes found yours, and you could see the mix of excitement and trepidation in them. She took a seat on the chair opposite, her legs crossed, her hands folded in her lap.

Elle busied herself with opening the wine, her movements deliberate and controlled. She poured three glasses, handing one to you and another to JJ before taking a seat next to you on the couch. "Cheers," she said, holding up her glass. You clinked yours against hers, the sound echoing in the tense silence.

JJ took a sip of her wine, her eyes darting between you two. She was clearly nervous, but the way she licked her lips and fidgeted in her seat spoke volumes about her desire. You felt your own anticipation build as you watched her, her every move calculated to drive you wild.

Elle leaned back into the couch, her eyes gleaming as she took a sip of her wine. "You know, I was thinking," she began, her voice a purr. "You look absolutely gorgeous tonight. Why don't you show JJ that pretty lilac lingerie set you bought last week?"

The words hung in the air, heavy with suggestion, and you felt a thrill run through you. You knew she was taking charge, guiding the evening's events, but you couldn't deny the excitement that bubbled up at the idea of performing for both of them. You nodded slowly, setting your wine glass down on the coffee table with a gentle clink.

Standing up, you walked over to where JJ sat, her eyes on you the entire time. You could see the hunger in them, the way she took in every step you took. When you reached her, you bent down and whispered in her ear, "Would you like to see it?"

JJ's breath hitched, and she nodded, unable to form words. You took her hand and led her to the bedroom, the soft caress of your skin against hers sending waves of desire through her body. The room was lit by the soft glow of lamps, obscuring part of the room in shadows. You turned to face her, your hands slowly lifting up your shirt.

Her eyes followed the movement, her breathing becoming more rapid as you revealed your torso, the muscles of your stomach jumping. She couldn't believe she was here, about to see you in a way she never had before. You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your jeans and began to pull them down, revealing the matching lilac lace of your panties. Your hips swayed gently as you stepped out of the denim pools at your feet, leaving you standing before her in nothing but your underwear.

The sight was intoxicating, and JJ felt her own body responding to the display. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart as you turned around, giving her a full view of your ass, perfectly framed by the delicate lace. You looked over your shoulder, a playful smirk on your lips.

Elle sauntered over to you, her hips swaying with a confidence that seemed to fill the room. She stopped behind you, her hands running up your sides, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. She didn't touch your breasts, not yet, but her fingertips danced just beneath them, teasing the sensitive skin. "Well, JJ," she purred, her breath warm against your neck. "What do you think?"

JJ's eyes were glued to you, watching every move like it was a scene from a movie. Her cheeks were flushed, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps as she took in the sight of you. "I think… I think it looks beautiful," she managed to get out, her voice stumbling over her desire.

With a knowing smile, Elle leaned in closer to your ear, her breath hot against your skin. "Go ahead and take it off," she whispered, her voice a seductive command. You felt a shiver run down your spine, the anticipation building as you reached around to unclasp your bra. The fabric fell away, revealing your bare breasts to the cool air of the room. JJ's eyes widened, her gaze hungry as she took in the sight.

Elle's hands slid down to your waist, her fingers unhooking your panties. "And these," she said, her voice a low growl of approval. You stepped out of them, now fully exposed to JJ's gaze.

JJ sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes devouring every inch of you. You could see the want in them, the desire that mirrored your own. It was as if she was committing every curve and freckle to memory, and the thought had you feeling both vulnerable and incredibly powerful.

Tentatively, she reached out a hand, her fingers brushing against the smooth skin of your hip. The touch was light, almost innocent, but the electricity that sparked between you was anything but. You sucked in a sharp breath, the sensation sending goosebumps across your body. JJ's hand hovered for a moment, as if unsure if it was allowed to continue its exploration, but then, as if she'd made up her mind, her fingertips traced a line along the curve of your waist, sending shivers down your spine.

Her gaze remained locked on yours, searching for any sign of rejection, but all she found was an answering hunger, a need that mirrored her own. You took a step closer, closing the distance between you, and she let out a soft gasp as your bodies touched. The heat of your skin against hers was intoxicating, a silent invitation to keep going.

With trembling hands, JJ began to explore your body. She started with your shoulders, her fingertips gliding over your collarbones, tracing the lines of your neck down to your chest. Each touch was feather-light, as if she were afraid to break the delicate spell that had been woven between the three of you.

She reached behind her own neck to unzip her dress, the fabric parting to reveal the matching black lace of her lingerie. Her breasts were full and round, the lace pushing them up to form a tantalizing display. You stepped closer, the heat between you growing as she let the dress slip down her arms, pooling around her waist.

JJ's eyes never left your body, but she could feel the shift in the room as Elle joined the game. She watched, almost in awe, as Elle stepped out of the dress, leaving her in nothing but the scrap of lace that barely contained her. The sight was breathtaking, and she felt a sudden jolt of desire. It was a stark reminder that this was a package deal, and she was now the third wheel in a passionate love affair.

Elle stepped closer, her eyes a storm of emotions as she took in the sight of JJ's hands on you. Jealousy flared in her stomach, a knot of possessiveness that she had anticipated. But she pushed it down, reminding herself that this was all part of the thrill, part of the experience. Instead, she focused on JJ, her own hands moving to the other woman's shoulders, her fingertips tracing the delicate lace of her bra.

In one swift motion, all three of you were undressed, the clothes scattered on the floor like a trail of breadcrumbs leading to this moment. The bed beckoned, a sea of rumpled sheets and pillows, and before you knew it, you were on the bed with JJ straddling you, her thighs pressing against your hips. She looked down at you, her eyes searching, her breathing erratic. You could feel the heat of her core against you, and it was all you could do to keep from reaching up and touching her.

Elle watched the two of you, a mix of arousal and possessiveness in her gaze. She climbed onto the bed, her body moving with the grace of a panther. Her hands found your face, tilting it up to meet hers as she claimed your mouth in a fiery kiss. You could feel JJ's body tense against yours, the anticipation building as she watched her friend claim you so openly.

JJ's hands moved to your breasts, her touch tentative at first before growing bolder. She explored the soft mounds, her thumbs brushing against your sensitive nipples. You moaned into Elle's mouth, the sensation making your back arch off the bed. It was a sound that seemed to ignite something within JJ, her touch growing more insistent, her movements more urgent.

Elle pulled away from the kiss, her eyes dark with desire as she watched JJ's hands on your body. She leaned down to kiss a trail down your neck, her teeth grazing your skin lightly as she went.

JJ's touch grew more confident, her thumbs and forefingers playing with your hardened nipples. You whimpered, the pleasure shooting straight to your core. Elle's hand slid down your body, her fingertips grazing JJ's as she meet her at your breasts.

The tension between them was palpable, an unspoken battle of dominance as their hands moved in unison on your body. It was almost as if Elle was reminding JJ that she was the one in control, the one who had brought you both here. Her touch was firm, almost possessive, as if she was staking a claim on every inch of your skin.

JJ's fingertips trailed downward, her touch featherlight as it approached the apex of your thighs. She watched your reaction, her eyes searching for any sign of resistance. But all she found was a deepening need, a silent plea for more. With a soft moan, you spread your legs, inviting her closer.

Her hand hovered for a moment, as if asking permission, before finally touching your sex. The contact was electric, sending a jolt through your body that made you gasp. You watched as Elle's eyes narrowed slightly, her full lips pressing into a tight line. It was a subtle expression, but one that didn't go unnoticed by either of you.

As the tension grew, you knew you had to intervene. This wasn't about one-upping each other or claiming territory. It was about exploration and pleasure, and if it continued down this path, it would only lead to hurt feelings and regret. You gently pushed JJ's hand aside and sat up.

"JJ, can I have a moment with Elle?" you asked, your voice low and steady. You didn't want to make it seem like you were cutting her out, but you needed to have a private conversation with your girlfriend. She nodded, a little dazed by the intensity of the situation.

You took Elle's hand, leading her out into the hallway. The coolness of the wall against your bare skin was a bit of a shock compared to the heat of the room you'd just left. "Is everything okay?" you asked, looking into her eyes.

Elle took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the effort to compose herself. "I… I don't know," she admitted, her voice tight. "I'm just finding it harder to push aside the jealousy than I thought I would."

You searched her eyes, the depth of her feelings written clearly on her face. "I know this isn't easy for you," you said, your voice soothing. "But remember, we're in this together. This is about all three of us enjoying ourselves, not about competition."

Elle nodded, her eyes never leaving yours. "I know," she said, her voice tight. "But it's just…" She trailed off, unsure of how to put her emotions into words. You leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Is there anything that would help?" you whispered, your voice filled with concern. "Something we can do to make this easier for you?"

Elle took a deep breath, her eyes searching yours. "Maybe if… if I was the one guiding JJ's movements," she suggested, a hint of colour returning to her cheeks. "That way, it feels more like I'm in control, like I'm the one deciding how things go."

You nodded, understanding the complex dance of emotions that was playing out in her mind. "Okay," you murmured, your voice a gentle reassurance. "Let's go back in there, and you can take the lead."

Hand in hand, you returned to the bedroom. JJ was sitting on the edge of the bed, her eyes flicking up to meet yours before dropping back down to her hands, which were nervously twisting in her lap. She looked up at Elle with a question in her eyes, and you knew she could feel the shift in the atmosphere.

"JJ," you began, your voice firm but gentle. "We need to talk."

JJ's heart sank. She had been so lost in the moment that she had forgotten about the boundaries, about the delicate balance of emotions and power dynamics at play. She braced herself, expecting the worst. Was this it? The moment where everything unravelled and she was left feeling like an outsider?

But instead, Elle took charge, her voice firm yet gentle. "JJ," she began, "you know how much I care for you, right?" JJ nodded, unsure of where this was heading. "Good," Elle continued. "Then you'll understand that I need to be the one guiding this. It's not about controlling you or taking away from your experience, it's just… I need to be the one setting the pace tonight."

JJ looked at her, a mix of relief and excitement in her eyes. She hadn't realized how much she'd been holding her breath, waiting for a rejection. "I understand," she said, her voice a little shaky. "Whatever you need, I'm here for it."

Elle pulled up a chair to the side of the bed, her movements smooth and deliberate. She sat down, her eyes meeting yours as she gestured for you to join JJ on the bed. You felt a shiver of anticipation at the sight of her sitting there, her legs crossed, her expression a mix of excitement and challenge. She was taking control, and you knew that was exactly what she needed to feel comfortable with this situation.

"Lay back," she instructed, her voice firm. You did as she said, your heart racing as you watched her. "Now, JJ," she said, turning her attention to the other woman. "Straddle her face. I want her to show you how talented her mouth is."

JJ looked at you with a mix of excitement and trepidation, but she obeyed, her legs parting as she positioned herself over your head. You could feel the heat of her core against your lips, and the scent of her arousal filled the air. It was a heady, intoxicating aroma that made your mouth water.

With a deep breath, you leaned in, your tongue flicking out to taste her for the first time. JJ's body tensed, a soft gasp escaping her lips as she felt you begin to explore her folds. Your mouth closed around her clit, sucking gently at first, then with more insistence as you felt her body begin to respond.

Elle's hand found your hair, her grip tightening as she watched the scene unfold. You could feel her eyes on you, the heat of her gaze almost as intense as the pleasure building in JJ. She began to give instructions, her voice a sultry whisper. "Use your hands," she said, her eyes never leaving the sight of your mouth on JJ's body.

JJ's legs began to tremble, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps as you listened to Elle's guidance. Your hands found her hips, holding her in place as your mouth continued its relentless assault. You felt the wetness of her arousal against your face, and the knowledge that you were the one bringing her pleasure was incredibly satisfying.

As you slid two fingers inside her, feeling her tightness grip you, JJ's body jolted, a muffled moan escaping her lips. You curled your fingers, finding that special spot, and she rocked her hips against your hand. The sound of her wetness filled the room, a rhythmic counterpoint to the soft, guttural noises she was making.

Elle had moved quietly behind her, and before you could even look up, her hands were on JJ's breasts, kneading and teasing the soft mounds. You watched as JJ's eyes rolled back in her head, her body arching towards the dual sensations. The sight of your girlfriend's hands on JJ was surprisingly hot, and you felt your own arousal spike.

Elle leaned in, her breath hot against JJ's neck as she whispered in her ear, "You like that, don't you?" JJ moaned in response, her hips moving in sync with your ministrations. You could feel the tension in her body, the way she was holding herself still, trying not to lose control too quickly.

You took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the scene before you: JJ's soft, full thighs framing your face, the way her stomach muscles tightened with every gasp of pleasure, the way her breasts bounced slightly with every thrust of your hand. Then, you did something you hadn't planned. You started to hum.

The vibration against JJ's clit was like a switch had been flipped. Her body jerked, a keening sound escaping her throat as she tried to stifle the noise. Her thighs clamped down around your head, but you didn't miss a beat. You hummed louder, the vibrations resonating through her entire core. It was a symphony of pleasure that she had never experienced before, and she could feel her orgasm building faster than she ever had.

Elle's voice was like a dark caress, her words sending a thrill through you. "You better thank me for sharing my toy with you," she murmured, her hand moving to JJ's chin, tilting her face up to look at her. "But remember, she's mine." The possessive glint in her eyes was unmistakable.

JJ's eyes fluttered closed, her body quivering with pleasure as you continued to tease her. You could feel the beginnings of her climax, the tightening of her muscles around your fingers. You didn't miss the hint of jealousy in Elle's voice, but it only served to fuel your desire, to make you want to give JJ the most mind-blowing experience possible.

Elle leaned in closer, her breath hot against JJ's ear. "How does it feel knowing that you're going to be thinking of her mouth for the rest of your life, but will never feel it on you again?" she whispered, a hint of satisfaction in her tone.

JJ could only whine in response, her hips grinding harder onto your mouth, unable to form coherent words. The sensation of your tongue against her clit was exquisite, a pleasure that bordered on pain. She had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, and yet it was a feeling she craved more of. Her body was a live wire, every touch sending sparks through her veins.

Elle's fingers trailed down JJ's stomach, her nails scraping lightly against the sensitive skin. She watched with hooded eyes as your mouth worked its magic, the way JJ's body reacted to your every move. It was a heady feeling, knowing that she had the power to give this pleasure, to make this happen.

The room was filled with the sounds of JJ's gasps and whimpers, the slick sounds of your mouth on her skin. You could feel her getting closer, the tightness of her muscles, the way her body was coiling like a spring ready to snap. You increased the pressure, your tongue flicking faster, your humming growing more insistent.

And then she was there, her orgasm crashing over her like a wave. Her head thrown back, she let out a silent scream, her body rigid with pleasure. You could feel her pulsing around your fingers, her juices flowing freely onto your face. It was a moment of pure ecstasy, and you felt a surge of satisfaction knowing you had brought her to this peak.

Elle guided JJ's boneless body to the side of the bed, the other woman collapsing onto the soft mattress with a sigh. She was still catching her breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her skin flushed with the afterglow of climax. You took the opportunity to sit up, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You met Elle's gaze, her eyes smouldering with desire.

Without a word, she crawled over you, her body a sleek, powerful machine of passion. Her breasts brushed against yours, sending a shiver of excitement down your spine. She positioned herself so that her hips were straddling your thighs, her own need clear and present. You could feel the heat of her, the wetness of her desire, and it made your own ache for release.

Then, she leaned down, her eyes locked on yours, and claimed your mouth in a fierce, possessive kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of desire and dominance, of a need to reclaim what was hers. Your hands found the small of her back, holding her tightly as she devoured you, her tongue dancing with yours in a dance of lust. She could taste the hint of JJ on your lips, a sweet and salty reminder of the pleasure you given.

Elle broke the kiss abruptly, turning her attention to the other woman. "There's no time for rest," she said, her voice a low, seductive command. She gestured to the space between your legs, the dampness of your arousal glistening in the dim light. "Get on your hands and knees."

JJ complied without hesitation, her own desire flaring as she took position. The sight of you, open and eager, was tantalizing. She could feel her own need pooling in her stomach, a desperate ache that was begging to be satisfied. She leaned in, her breath hot against your skin as she took in the scent of your desire.

"Go ahead," Elle urged, her voice a dark whisper in the quiet room. "Taste her. Show us what you can do."

JJ didn't need any more prompting. She leaned down, her tongue flicking out to taste you for the first time. You watched her through heavy-lidded eyes, feeling her warm breath against your folds before she delved in deeper. Her tongue was a gentle, insistent force, exploring every inch of you with a hunger. You moaned, your hips bucking upward, seeking more of that exquisite pressure.

Elle's hand found its way to the back of JJ's head, her fingers threading through the soft strands of hair. She watched intently as JJ's mouth worked its magic on you, her own desire growing with every sound you made. With a light tug, she encouraged JJ to go deeper, and the other woman's back arched in response, her mouth never leaving your wetness.

Her other hand glided down JJ's spine, the smooth skin like silk under her fingertips. She felt the muscles tense and release with every movement. With a sudden, sharp movement, she slapped JJ's ass, the sound echoing in the room. The sting was surprising, a jolt of pain that sent a bolt of pleasure through JJ's body, making her gasp.

Elle smirked, watching the effect she had. She trailed her hand back down, her fingers dancing over the curve of JJ's hip before sliding between her legs. She felt the wetness there, a testament to how turned on the other woman was. Her own arousal grew, a throb in her core that she knew would only be satisfied when you were both begging for release.

With a sudden, firm movement, she slid two fingers into JJ's wetness, the obscene noise of the act making you both gasp. JJ's body jolted, her eyes flying open to meet yours. You watched, your breath hitching, as Elle's hand moved in a rhythmic pattern, her thumb pressing against JJ's clit with every thrust.

JJ's mouth grew sloppy against you, her focus fading in and out as she was bombarded with sensation. She was a mess of desire, her eyes glazed over with pleasure, her breathing ragged and shallow.

Elle, ever observant, noticed JJ's technique beginning to falter as she became lost in the haze of her own arousal. "Slower, JJ," she instructed, her voice low and velvety. "Feel the way she reacts to every stroke of your tongue."

JJ obeyed, her eyes fluttering closed as she focused solely on the task at hand. She traced the delicate folds of your sex with the tip of her tongue. You moaned, the sound low and needy, your hands moving to grip the bed sheets as you felt the beginnings of a climb towards ecstasy.

Elle's voice was authoritative, guiding JJ's every move. "Circles," she murmured, her hand moving to grip JJ's shoulder. "Now, lick upward, straight up the center." JJ followed her instructions to the letter, her tongue moving in perfect time with your gasps and whimpers.

"How does she taste?" Elle prompted, her fingers still slowly thrusting in and out of JJ's pussy. She paused, her tongue resting against your sensitive flesh, savouring the flavour that was uniquely you.

JJ's eyes snapped open, her gaze meeting yours. "Incredible," she breathed, her voice a hoarse whisper. "So sweet and… and intoxicating."

The words sent a shiver through you, and you felt your body respond. Your hips bucked upwards, searching for more of JJ's mouth, desperately trying to increase the pressure. You were steadily building up to your orgasm.

JJ took the cue, her movements becoming more deliberate as she listened to Elle's instructions. Each flick of her tongue was a little more precise, each suck a little more insistent. You could feel her trying to please you, to be the best she could be, and the effort was intoxicating.

Elle's fingers pumped in and out of JJ, her thumb rubbing circles around her clit. You watched the two of them, the sight of your girlfriend's hand in JJ's pussy making you wetter than you'd ever been. You could feel your own orgasm building, a pressure that was becoming almost unbearable.

JJ's tongue was a little rougher than Elle's, her technique not as refined. But as she listened to Elle's instructions, her movements grew more deliberate, more confident. And with every word, every gentle correction, you found yourself getting closer to the edge. The knowledge that Elle was watching, that she was in control of your pleasure, was an aphrodisiac more potent than any you'd ever known.

Elle's hand never stopped moving in JJ's pussy, her fingers curling and uncurling in a slow, torturous rhythm that had the other woman's hips rocking back to meet her touch. She could feel JJ's orgasm approaching, the tension in her body tightening with every stroke. But she held back, her eyes locked on yours, waiting for the moment when she knew you were ready to fall over the precipice.

"Now, JJ," she said, her voice low and intense. "Find her g-spot. Press firmly, but gently, just like this." She demonstrated the pressure on JJ, her hips jerking slightly at the sensation.

JJ nodded, her eyes focused on the task at hand. You felt her shift, her tongue moving away as she inserted two fingers into you, her movements tentative at first, then growing bolder as she listened to Elle's guidance. The feeling was overwhelming, the fullness of her digits combined with the insistent pressure on your g-spot was what you needed.

Your hips bucked down, eagerly meeting her hand as it worked its way into your body. It was as if she could read your mind, her fingers gliding into your wetness with an ease that made your eyes roll back in your head. And then, just as you were about to lose yourself to the sensation, she added her tongue back to your clit, the combination sending a shockwave of pleasure through you.

Elle's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she watched JJ follow her instructions. She could practically feel the tension in your body, the way your muscles tightened around her fingers as you grew closer to the edge. She knew exactly how to push you over, but she was enjoying the slow burn, the delicious anticipation of watching you fall apart.

"Faster," she told JJ, her voice a soft command. "I want to hear her scream."

JJ's eyes snapped to yours, her pupils dilated with lust as she quickened her pace. You felt the pressure building, a coil of tension winding tighter and tighter with every stroke of her fingers. You were so close, so fucking close.

Suddenly your body bowed off the bed, a keening wail tearing from your throat. The world fading out around you, your vision going white as pleasure flooded your veins. JJ's mouth never left you, her tongue working tirelessly as you rode the wave of ecstasy. You could feel her breathing hitch, her body tense with the effort of pleasing you.

Elle watched the two of you, a smug smile playing on her lips. She knew she had orchestrated this moment to perfection, the culmination of weeks of tension and desire. Her own hand never ceased its rhythm inside JJ, feeling her muscles tighten around her fingers as she approached her own climax.

You collapse back onto the bed, breathless and trembling, the aftershocks of your orgasm still rolling through your body. The world had narrowed down to this room, this moment, these two women who had brought you to the heights of pleasure. JJ's mouth was still on you, her tongue tracing lazy circles around your clit, her eyes closed as if savouring the taste of you on her tongue.

Elle watched with a smug satisfaction, her own breathing heavy as she continued to pump her fingers in and out of JJ's wet pussy. She could feel the other woman's orgasm building, the way her walls clenched around her digits with each stroke. She knew that with a few more movements, she could send JJ spiralling over the edge.

With a final twist of her wrist and a firm press against JJ's g-spot, she did exactly that. JJ's body stiffened, a keening sound escaping her throat as she came, her juices flooding over Elle's hand. Her eyes squeezed shut, her face a picture of pure ecstasy, as she rode out the waves of pleasure that crashed over her.

Elle watched, her own desire ramping up as she felt JJ's orgasm through her fingertips. She pulled her hand out with a wet sound, bringing her fingers to her own mouth and tasting the sweetness. "Mmm," she moaned, her eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction. "So good."

With a contented sigh, she leaned back on the bed, her body relaxed and replete. The air was thick with the musk of arousal and the sweet scent of pleasure, a heady mix that only served to increase her own need.

You watched as JJ slowly pulled away, her face flushed and eyes glazed with satisfaction. She took a moment to catch her breath before collapsing onto the bed beside you, her body heavy and languid. You couldn't help but reach out to stroke her cheek.

Elle, however, hadn't reached her peak yet, and JJ noticed. She turned to you both, her eyes filled with concern. "Elle," she breathed, "you didn't…"

But before she could finish, Elle waved a hand, her smile knowing. "Don't worry about me," she said, her eyes drifting over to you. "I'll collect my dues later."

The three of you lie there for a few minutes, the only sound the harshness of your breathing as it slowly evened out. The tension that had been building all evening was gone, replaced with a warm contented silence.

After a while, JJ shifts, breaking the peaceful tableau. She looks between you and Elle, her expression a mix of satisfaction and shyness. "I should…I should probably go," she says, her voice a bit raspy. "Don't want to overstay my welcome."

You both nod, the understanding clear. The night had been intense, and while it had been incredible, you knew that too much of a good thing could ruin the moment. You sit up, wiping a strand of hair from your face. "Thank you, JJ," you say quietly. "That was… amazing."

JJ smiles back, a hint of shyness playing on her lips. She nods, her eyes still glazed with satisfaction. "It was," she agrees, her voice still a bit breathless. "But I should really go." She starts to sit up, her body moving with the lazy grace of someone who has been thoroughly satisfied.

Elle and you both slip into robes, the fabric whispering against your skin as you move. You help JJ to her feet, the three of you navigating the mess of discarded clothing scattered across the floor. The act of getting dressed feels almost mundane after the intense experience you've just shared, but it serves to ground you in reality.

When you reach the door, JJ hesitates, her hand lingering on the doorknob. She looks over her shoulder at the two of you, a mix of satisfaction and nerves playing across her features. "Thank you," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "For letting me be part of this."

Elle nods, her smile soft. "It was fun," she replies, her eyes flicking down to your still flushed face. "But remember, she's mine."

As soon as the door clicks shut behind JJ, the atmosphere in the room shifts. The tension that had been coiled around the three of you like a living thing suddenly snaps tight. You turn to face Elle, expecting to find satisfaction in her eyes, but instead, you're met with a fierce hunger that takes your breath away.

With a speed that belies her passion, she crosses the room and pins you against the wall, her hands on either side of your head. Her eyes are like flames, burning with a desire that's as intense as it is possessive. "It's time to reclaim what's mine," she says, her voice low and demanding.

Your heart races in anticipation as she leans in, her breath hot against your neck. You can feel the power of her desire, the need to assert her dominance in the wake of the shared intimacy with JJ. It's a heady feeling, being wanted so badly, being the centre of someone's world.

Elle's tongue traces a wet line up your neck. She nips gently at the sensitive skin, her teeth grazing your pulse point before she bites down, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to leave a mark that will surely be visible tomorrow. The sting of pain sends a shock of pleasure through your body, making your legs wobble.

With a surprising show of strength, she lifts you off your feet, carrying you to the bedroom like you're a ragdoll. She tosses you onto the bed, the impact jarring but welcome. You bounce slightly before settling into the softness of the mattress, your heart racing in anticipation of what's to come.

Elle follows you, her movements fluid and predatory. She's on you in a moment, claiming your mouth in an intense kiss that leaves you gasping for breath. Her tongue is a fierce, demanding presence, tasting every part of you as if she's trying to erase the memory of JJ's touch. You can feel the passion in her, a wild beast that's been let out of its cage.

With an impatient tug, she pulls the tie of your robe loose. The fabric slides away from your body, revealing your bare skin to the cool air. Her eyes rake over you, a mix of hunger and possessiveness in their depths. She takes her time, savouring the sight of you, her fingers tracing the curve of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the flare of your hips. It's as if she's branding you with her gaze, marking every inch of your body as hers.

Her touch is insistent as she runs her palms over your skin, feeling the goosebumps rise in response. She seems to be everywhere at once, her hands exploring, claiming, as if she can't get enough of you. Her mouth follows the path her eyes have taken, her kisses leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You arch into her touch, your body responding instinctively, craving the feel of her skin on yours.

"Elle," you murmur, your voice a breathless whisper. Her name is a prayer, a plea for more. And more is what you get. She growls low in her throat, a feral sound that thrills you. "JJ can't make you feel like this, can she?"

Her eyes flash with possessiveness as she pins your wrists to the bed, her hips grinding against yours in a silent demand for an answer. You can feel her heat pressing into you, the fabric of her own robe the only barrier between you. It's a question that hangs in the air.

"No," you gasp out, your voice hoarse from the pleasure that still echoes through your body. "Nobody can make me feel like you do, Elle."

Her eyes light up at your words, and she leans down to kiss you again, her teeth grazing your bottom lip. The sensation is shocking, a sharp, sweet pain that sends a jolt of desire straight to your core. She kisses down your body, her teeth leaving a trail of love bites that will serve as a reminder of this night. Each one makes you squirm, a delicious agony that you can't help but crave more of.

When she reaches your thighs, she takes a moment to admire the soft flesh. With a wicked smile, she sinks her teeth in harder than before, making you cry out. She feels your legs tense beneath her, your body arching off the bed. The love bites she makes here are the darkest, the most pronounced. It's as if she's leaving her brand on you, a declaration of ownership that makes you burn with excitement.

Her kisses grow wetter as she moves lower, her mouth finally reaching the apex of your thighs. She breathes in deeply, taking in the scent of your arousal, and you can feel your clit throb in response. Her tongue traces the outside of your pussy, teasing and taunting, not giving you what you need. The anticipation is unbearable, your hips rocking up to meet her mouth.

With a low chuckle, she finally gives in, her tongue parting your folds and delving into your wetness. You cry out, your body bucking as she finds your clit, circling it with a firm pressure that sends sparks of pleasure through you. Her teeth graze the sensitive skin around it, making you whimper. It's a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that you've never felt with anyone else.

Elle's grip on your hips tightens, her nails digging in slightly as she holds you down. You can feel the need in her touch, a fierce hunger that demands satisfaction. Her tongue flicks against your clit, fast and insistent, while her other hand slides down to your opening, her fingers sliding inside with ease. She's relentless, her mouth and hand working in tandem to drive you wild.

And wild you go, your body responding to her touch with a fervour that surprises even you. You're so wet, you can feel yourself dripping down onto her hand, the sound of her fingers moving in and out of you filling the room. The slickness of it all is so erotic that you can't help but moan louder, your hips grinding against her face.

Elle's eyes are on you, watching your every reaction, her own arousal clear in the way she's panting against your skin. She talks dirty to you, her voice a low growl that vibrates through your body, making you shiver with need. "You're so wet for me," she murmurs, her words muffled by your flesh.

Her palm presses down firmly on your clit, rubbing in tight circles that make you want to scream. The pressure is perfect, building a crescendo of pleasure that feels like it will never end. And as she does this, her fingers are still buried inside you, pumping in and out, filling you up with every thrust.

Elle knows your body like the back of her hand. She's studied every inch of you, every quiver, every gasp. She's a maestro playing a symphony of pleasure, and you're her instrument, tuned to perfection. She can feel your body tightening around her fingers, the muscles in your thighs quivering with the effort of holding on.

Her tongue moves with purpose, each stroke calculated to elicit the maximum response. She's a master at reading the signs, knowing exactly when to ease off and let you catch your breath, only to plunge you back into the abyss of pleasure.

Elle's fingers curl inside you, finding that spot that makes your toes curl. She's not gentle, but you don't want her to be. You want to feel every inch of her, to know that she's there, claiming you, reminding you of what you mean to her.

And as she does, you can't help but think about JJ. How sweet she was, how eager she had been to pleasure you. But it's not the same. It's like comparing a candle to a wildfire. With JJ, it had been fun, a thrilling escape from reality. But with Elle, it's raw, it's real, it's home.

Elle seems to read your thoughts, because she pulls back, her eyes flashing with a possessive fire. "JJ could never fuck you like this, could she?" she snarls, her voice low and guttural.

The question hangs in the air, a challenge that you can't ignore. You shake your head, your voice barely above a whisper. "No," you admit, your breath hitching as she lowers her mouth back down on your pussy.

She sucks your clit between her lips, and you can't help but arch upwards, your body begging for more. She responds by increasing the suction, her tongue swirling faster and faster in her mouth. The sensation is overwhelming, a crescendo of pleasure that makes your toes curl.

The thrust of her hand was so intense that you were rocking up the sheets, your breasts jiggling harshly with each movement. The sensation of her fingers inside you, combined with the relentless pressure on your clit, was driving you mad with desire. You could feel your orgasm approaching like a freight train, an unstoppable force that you were powerless to resist.

You came moaning loudly, curling in on yourself as the pleasure washed over you. Your back arched off the bed, and your legs clamped around her head, holding her in place as if you were afraid she'd stop if you let go. But she didn't stop, not even when your cries grew hoarse, your body jerking with the intensity of your climax.

Elle's tongue and fingers didn't ease up until you were a trembling mess beneath her, your orgasm fading into delicious aftershocks. Only then did she pull away, licking her lips with a smug satisfaction that made you want to laugh and kiss her at the same time.

But there was no time for that, because she was already moving over you, her own robe coming off to reveal her naked body, her breasts swaying with each movement. You watched, transfixed, as she settled between your legs, her own thighs pressing against yours.

The feeling of her slick skin sliding against yours was heavenly. She was wet with desire, her juices coating both of you as she ground her hips against yours. You felt her heat, her wetness, and you were lost to all reason. Your body was a live wire, each brush of skin against skin sending electric shocks of pleasure through you.

You wrapped your legs around hers, pulling her closer, your bodies melding together. The room was a haze of desire, the only sound the slap of your thighs meeting and the harshness of your breaths. Your clit was swollen and sensitive, and each time it rubbed against hers, it sent liquid heat through you.

Elle groaned, her eyes rolling back in her head. "Yes," she breathed, her voice ragged with need. "Just like that."

Your hips ground down, grinding your sex against hers with a fierce intensity that was almost primal. You were animals, driven by instinct, by the need to claim and be claimed. Your bodies moved in a dance as old as time itself, each stroke of skin on skin, each brush of your clits, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you like a storm at sea.

You could feel the wetness between your legs, the heat of her arousal mixing with your own. Your breaths grew ragged, your chests heaving with the effort of staying connected, of getting closer.

Elle's eyes met yours as she leaned in, her breath hot against your cheek. "You're mine," she whispered, her voice a harsh rasp. "Always."

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, a delicious thrill that made you want to submit to her completely. You nodded, unable to speak as your hips continued to grind against hers. It was like nothing you'd ever felt before, a raw, primal need that seemed to consume you both.

"You have no idea how much watching her touch you drove me wild," she grunted out, her voice a dark promise. "I wanted to rip her hands away and show her who you really belong to."

Her words sent a bolt of electricity through your body, making your clit throb with renewed lust. The thought of her jealousy, of her need to claim you so fiercely in front of JJ, only added to your desire. You could see the hunger in her eyes, the raw need to possess you completely.

"Elle," you gasped. "I'm yours. I always have been."

"Say it again," she demanded, her voice filled with need. "Say it like you mean it."

You swallowed, the taste of her still on your tongue. "I'm yours, Elle. Always."

Her hips stuttered against yours, and you knew she was close. You felt a strange power, knowing that you had the ability to give her what she needed. You thrust upwards, grinding against her with everything you had.

You could see her fighting for control, but it was a losing battle. With a final, desperate push, she let go, her body shaking with the force of her climax. It triggered yours, the sensations overlapping in a crescendo of pleasure that left you both gasping for air.

Elle collapsed on top of you, her breath hot against your neck. You could feel her heart racing, the thunder of her pulse matching your own. Your bodies were slick with sweat, your skin sticking together as you both struggled to catch your breath.

With a sudden surge of passion, you grabbed her face and pulled her into a deep, demanding kiss. It was as if you needed to consume her, to claim her as fiercely as she had claimed you.

"I love you," you whispered against her mouth, the words spilling out with an intensity that took even you by surprise.

Elle's eyes searched yours for a moment before she responded, "I love you too." Her voice was thick with emotion, and she leaned in to kiss you again, her mouth moving against yours with a passion that made your toes curl.

As your kisses grew slower, more tender, you both pulled back to gaze at each other. The intensity of your shared experience had deepened the connection between you, and you could see the love in her eyes, stark and unmistakable.

With a contented sigh, you both settled under the soft sheets, your bodies still slick with sweat and desire. You felt the warmth of her skin against yours, the steady beat of her heart beneath your palm. It was a comforting feeling, a reminder that despite the wildness of the night, you were still the same people who loved and cared for each other.

Elle wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer so your bodies were spooned together. Her breath was hot against your neck, her chest rising and falling in time with yours.

You turned to face her, looking into her eyes with a soft smile. "You know," you said, your voice a gentle whisper in the quiet night, "that threesome with JJ, it didn't change anything."

Elle's eyes searched yours, looking for any trace of doubt or deceit, but all she found was honesty. You took her hand and placed it over your heart, feeling the rapid beat beneath her palm. "You're the only one for me," you reassured her, the words spilling out with an ease that surprised even you. "Having her here, it only made me realize how much I love belonging to you."

Her eyes softened, and she leaned in to kiss you again, her teeth catching your bottom lip in a gentle bite. "I've never felt more alive than when I'm with you," she murmured against your mouth. "It's like I can't get enough of you, no matter how much I have."

You nodded, your heart swelling with love for this woman who could be so tender one moment and so fierce the next. "And tonight," you whispered, "just made me realize that I never want to be with anyone else. You're all I need."

Elle's eyes searched yours, the fire in them fading to a gentle warmth. "I know," she murmured, her thumb stroking soothingly against your cheek. "And I don't want to share you with anyone else either. You're mine."

"I'm yours," you whisper into the quiet of the night, feeling the truth of them resonate deep within your core. The threesome with JJ had been fun, something new and exciting, but it was nothing compared to the deep, soul-consuming love you felt for Elle. The intimacy between the two of you was a force of nature, unmatched by any fleeting fling or shared moment with someone else.

[simstorian-blog]

Planet Honey Pop!

(CC List + Links)

[NOTE: The light switch to the Ravasheen Hidden Lights is on the bubble tea kiosk half wall on the ground level.]

World Map: San Myshuno

Area: Fashion District

Lot Size:  30 x 20

Amenities:

Arcade

Gaming/Internet Café

“Manga” Reading Area

Retail

Rooftop Bar

Thrift & Bubble Tea Store

Gallery ID: Simstorian-ish

Packs Needed

Expansion Packs

Cats & Dogs

City Living

Discover University

Eco Lifestyle

Get Famous

Get Together

Get To Work

Growing Together

High School Years

Lovestruck

Snowy Escape

Game Packs

Dine Out

Dream Home Decorator

Spa Day

Star Wars: Journey to Batuu

Strangerville

Stuff Packs

Moschino Stuff

Kits

Desert Luxe

Recommended Gameplay Mods

(Please read through what each mod has to offer before deciding if it fits your gameplay style or not.)

Arcade Lot Trait

City Vibes Lot Trait Collection

Functional Arcade

Lock/Unlock Doors for Any Lot

MC Command Center

Spawn Refresh

Build Mode

Hamsterbelle

Mini Space Hamster Set (Railings, Stairway)

Felixandre

Paris Pt 1 (Awning Open Long & Short)

Harlix

Harluxe (Laminated Wall)

Tiny Twavellers (Mural Wallpaper)

Harrie

Klean Pt. 2

Klean Pt. 3

LittleDica

Rise & Grind (Fence 2, Wallpaper 1)

MoonSimmers

Bonaerense Set (Mosaic Floor Small, Trim Granitic Mosaic Floor)

Nempne

Cover Sheet Ceiling Tile

Pierisim

Tilable (Plaster)

Syboubou

Classic Elevator (This is NEEDED)

The Royal Geek

Vintage Life Flooring

Buy Mode

AroundTheSims4

Museum Exhibition Shop (Bag, Bag Wall Display, Poster Rolls Display)

Cepzid

Arcade Room Pack (Only the Games)

Felixandre

SOHO Pt. 1 (Mirror Slim, Round Sink, Toilet & Remote)

SOHO Pt. 4 (Lounge Seating, Lounge Table, Planter, Shelving & Poles- ALL, Stool)

SOHO Pt. 5 (Duffle Bag, Kelly Bag)

SOHO Pt. 6 (Jute Rug 4 x 3, Postcards)

Hamsterbelle

Cyberpunk Neon Lights (SpunkyMoney, Tengu)

Floor Light Décor

Hanraja

S015 (Desk Chair 3 LOW)

S019 (Desk, Desktops)

Harlix

Kichen (Glasses)

Kichen 2.0 (Glasses)

Livin’ Rum (3D Wall Art, Coffee Table, End Table, Shelves)

Ledger Atelier

Bar Counter (DL Attached Bellow)

LittleDica

H&B Store (Aisle Sign Lit, Lit Letters – ALL, Stage Light 8)

LustrousSims

Simlish Bookstore

NANDO

Fashion Store

No Style x Woodland

Cöfkeksa Lounge Chair

Tamsusja Booth Corner

Peacemaker

Kassova Sectional

Pierisim

Stefan Living Room (Curtains & Rod - TALL)

Unfold (Dining Table, End Table)

Ravasheen

Easy Peasy Lumen Squeezy Hidden Lights

Shake & Shimmy Dance Floor

RusticSims

IRL (Dining Chair, Taburete)

Sundays

Kediri Pt. 1 (Throw Pillow- Solids)

Sumba Pt. 2 (Wardrobe Dresser II- Small)

TaurusDesign

Lilith Chillin’ Areas Pt. 1 (Drinks - ALL)

Tuds

Beam Kitchen (Table Bar 1x2)

DO NOT REUPLOAD MY LOTS.

DO NOT CLAIM THEM AS YOUR OWN.

DO NOT PLACE BEHIND A PAYWALL.

Tray Files: DOWNLOAD

[ann-writes-universes]

The Jeweler (AzrielxReader)

A/N: Missed you guys <3 Not my best but its cutie.

EDIT (Jan 23.2024): Forgot to add the tag list, srry guys :,) <33333

W.C: 1.3k

Warnings: Slight mentions of smut. Angst?

Winter in Velaris was truly a marvel. As the solstice approached decorations and lights littered the buildings of The Rainbow, and the streets bustled with life as city goers made last minute preparations.

From the frost coated glass of your apartment you watched as families scurried out of the cold, and lonesome travelers slowed by shop windows to take a peek inside. From its place on the wall your clock struck seven and you tore your eyes away from the scene below. If you listened closely enough you could hear as the jeweler, Mr. Krazinski, downstairs, closed up shop for the evening and began to head home for the weekend. As he went about his Friday evening routine- you too began your own. The tea you had been nursing (now cold) was discarded and a bath was drawn full of lavender and other frilly things an herbalist nymph had convinced you to buy earlier in the day. In no time, the pale blue tiles of your bathroom were slick and steam was rolling out from beneath the door- spilling into your hall. In the living room you lit candles, cedar and pine. The fae lights bobbing on your wall were extinguished, only the crackling fireplace radiated light now. The clock struck eight then, and you moseyed towards the bath. You’d take your time there- worship yourself and make sure every inch was perfect. He’d be there by eleven after all. By the time the clock struck nine the bath had drained, bits of lavender and other botanicals slowly drying to the bottom of your tub. You had pulled out your fineries. Lotions, perfumes, wine. At ten you were dressed, a deep emerald number- frilled with lace. Here was the winter solstice tree, lit for the occasion and you standing before it. With only half an hour left you downed your glass of wine, curled up in a chair facing the door. Eleven strikes and the locks begin to turn. Within moments your small doorframe is crowded by seven feet of illyrian muscle and wing. He’s dressed simply this week- dark trousers and a thick cable knit sweater. His wings are pulled tight, remnants 

of snow melting off their taloned tips. 

“Right on time, Shadowsinger.” You purred, trailing the rim of your glass with your scarlet red finger tip. He hummed his reply, stepping into the threshold of your home and firmly relocking the door behind him- a habit he had when he stayed here. You had always found it quite charming- him locking the door as if the most dangerous creature in Velaris would not be curled up in your sheets within the hour. 

“Am I ever late, Jeweler?” 

You audibly chuckled then,a noise that had a smile tugging at the Illyiran’s lips as he settled into the couch. Jeweler was a name he had been fondly calling you for years now, ever since he found out where you resided. 

“I suppose not.”

He was looking at you then, dragging his eyes back and forth across your frame and the bits of exposed skin. If you had been naive you would have thought it was the surmounting heat of the fire making him shift in his seat. But naive you were not. You placed your wine glass on the floor as you stood and sauntered over to where he sat. Azriel placed his hands on your hips and with one firm tug you were in his lap. He chuckled as you stumbled forward- a flailing thing compared to the elegance with once you just moved. Strong arms enveloped you and the room around you seemed to fade. The troubles of the week melted away as the shadowsinger kissed his way down your neck, across your collar, and down, down, down…

You had lived a long time and experienced many things but the way Azriel made you feel was different than anything you had encountered before. With a stroke of his fingers he had you writhing and moaning gutturally, falling blissfully further away from the world around you. By the time the two of you were spent, the fire had reduced itself to cinders in the hearth. Outside- a blizzard was well into forming, snow pushing its way past the glamors which kept Velaris safe from any real damage. 

You lay splayed across the rug before the fire- an afghan he had grabbed slung across your forms. Above your heads, strong cedar beams supported the ceiling. If you squinted, spiders had made homes in the corners and were scurrying dutifully across the wood. 

“Sometimes I think about staying here for good.” Azriel mumbled from beside you, his voice halting the soft circles he had been tracing into the bare skin of your side. You let out an airy chuckle at his statement and turned your head to face him. 

“So why don’t you?” A question you knew the answer too. One he knew the answer too as well.

He seemed to mull over your words for a moment anyhow before stating, “Because Jeweler, if I saw you everyday- im afraid it would change my life.” 

You stared at him for a moment, holding his hardened gaze. He seemed serious- deathly so. But he was not, and you knew that much. Keeping the thought at hand you laughed once more and teasingly shoved at his bare chest as you stood from the floor. 

“Of course it would, Shadowsinger. You would be reminded of Mr. Krazinski’s sales everyday instead of every Friday evening.” 

Azriel audibly groaned as you pranced towards the bathroom to fetch a robe. When you returned to the living room he was tugging on his pants. 

“Why dont you let me take you out to eat next week?” Azriel offered as he slipped his sweater back on. A boot following not far behind it. Leaning in the doorframe of the hallway you smiled tightly but only offered him a shrug. 

“You know where I stand on dates, Azriel.” 

“Then don't call it a date.” He shot, frustrated that you would not cave. 

From across the room you searched his eyes, tried desperately to find something that would make you change your mind- and you… couldn't. You see, you knew who Azriel was. You had known him for the past two decades- and your bed had seen him through some very tumultuous parts of his life. Several times over the years he had tried to take it further than pleasure, but your answer had always been no. There was no denying he was an attractive male, witty, incredible in bed, and even charming when he chose to be- but most of all he was the Spymaster of Rhysand’s Court. A master of deception and torture. You lived above a jeweler, taught nighttime pottery classes, and drank chai tea. His was not a life you could keep up with. And yours was one he would tire of quickly. To go on a date with Azriel would be to open a door that you were not sure you could step through- terrified of what lay on the other side. 

“Im Sorry, Azriel. You know I-” Before you could finish he smiled tightly and nodded.

“You cant. I know.” He tugged his jacket on as he spoke and headed towards the door. He did not say goodbye as he left, merely shut the door and locked it behind him. Listening to him clunk down the tiny staircase ached every week- but this one especially so. Yet again he had confronted you with a reality you could very well possess but simply could not yet face. Flopping down onto your couch you poured the last of your long forgotten wine and stared as the liquid swirled in your glass. 

He would return next week- inevitably to ask you out yet again. And maybe it was the last of the wine souring your brain as you tossed it back- but as you curled into your bed that night, you thought that maybe next week- just maybe… you would say yes.

TAGS:

@brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @younxii @momlo @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @highladyofillyria @crimsonandwhiteprincess @purplevitagen @isthataknuck

[saucyjothoughts]

could you write something about jance in Paris mirror hotel room please ❤️‍🩹? I can't stop thinking about it from time to time since Jan posted that photo

(photo IG:janpeteh)

If I didn't have to be a semi-functioning member of society this would be a 12k fic.

(nsfw under the cut)

"Now?"

His response was just a grunt.

"But they're going to bring our food up soon," Jan warns.

"Don't care."

It's been such a lovely day. One of Jan's favourite days, if he's being honest with himself. In the ascent of one of the most exciting episodes of his life, not only musically and in terms of career success, but finally being able to travel and spend every day with his band. And having Nace in his life, of course. The secret that no one keeps; nobody knows (except everyone knows). It's just a friendship, but no one is surprised when they want to spend the day alone together; sweet treats and the Louvre and guitar shopping in the City of Love. When they want to stay in a different hotel to the rest of the band and crew. When they want to share a room.

"What if we get interrupted?" Jan can feel Nace's hands slip under his shirt, his teeth nibbling on the tender skin of his neck, his erection pressing against him through their clothes.

The plan was to eat and hang out after their day sight-seeing (the Mama Shelter has its own very fancy bar and restaurant but isn't room service so much cosier? And privacy is so hard to come by these days) but Nace seems to have other ideas.

"Then they'll be jealous."

Nace is already trying to undress him. It's a game they've been playing for a while now; pushing each others buttons, taking turns to tease and seduce, giving and taking power over each other, playing chicken. But in the end, they always want the same thing.

Some alone time had been Jan's idea but Nace had booked the room. The place feels kind of industrial, with stripped-back walls and a view of the skyline. It has it's own wet room - tiled shower with fancy soaps - and the decor is minimal, featuring two big mirrors on opposing walls, delivering an infinite view of... Did Nace book this room on purpose? He's getting brave.

It certainly seems to be doing something for him. He's being rough, doing his best not to leave any bite marks where they might show, and Jan lets his lungs fill with his lover's smell, something inside of him melting at the wet, hungry noises Nace is making. He lets himself be manhandled, lets his bag be discarded to the floor, lets his shirt be torn away and thrown over the back of a chair. Nace dips to pick him up, wrapping his arms just under his butt as though he weighs nothing (God, does it send shivers through Jan's bones when he does this) and tosses him onto the bed where he lands on his back and Nace can climb on after him to strip him of his socks, of his trousers, of his boxers.

He's fully exposed, tender and pink on the clean white sheets while Nace is still dressed above him. There's something about being so comparatively vulnerable that makes his cock give away his arousal, and that only spurs Nace on more. His erection must be aching in his pants by now but he ignores it, all attention on Jan's body, smoothing his hands across his chest and over his tummy hair, appreciating every inch of his body until Nace's kiss is climbing up his inner thigh.

Jan's hips writhe of their own accord, anticipating. He loves this man so fucking much. His knees lift, and Nace explores and they both realise at the same time that Jan's hole is still slippery from their play this morning, when Nace's finger skips its usually teasing to push inside with almost no resistance. This morning, they had to be quiet. But... did he remember Nace saying something about this room being soundproof? Moans fall from him, Nace's fingers playing with his ass and his mouth sucking at his balls, and he clenches his asshole around Nace's knuckle to express his pleasure, hoping he'll lose his patience.

It works.

Nace crawls up his body, kissing his way up, until he's hovering over Jan's naked form.

"You want it?" he teases.

Between them, Nace's arm is reaching down to grab the length of his own cock through his pants.

Jan wants it. He wants it bad.

"You know I do."

He pulls at Nace's hair while he unzips, shuffling his pants down just far enough to let his cock spring out. The tip is already wet, red and yearning.

"I just like to hear you say it."

So Jan says it. He tells him how badly he wants it, how badly he wants to feel Nace's cock deep inside him. How his body needs to be stretched and used and filled as urgent and vicious as Nace can give it to him. He's wanted it all day, wanted him, always him, only him.

And now that fat cock is slipping between his cheeks, Nace using his hand to guide himself towards Jan's yearning little hole.

"Need you now," he mumbles, raspy with arousal and dripping with need.

And there's something animal behind Nace's eyes when he pushes with his hips, taking, claiming, and feeling Jan gasp as he stretches around his cock, violating that intimate warmth.

He's slow at first, adjusting, not quite lubricated enough to comfortably do this for long. But Jan will savour every moment of Nace's weight over him, his hot breath against his neck, those beautiful brown eyes drinking in the sight of him.

"Want-" Jan's body has the air pushed out of him over and over as he's getting fucked, "to- see- you."

He thrusts a steady rhythm, pressing Jan's leaking cock between their bodies and pushing him down into the mattress. Jan can feel him deep, again and again and again.

He's still fully dressed, his clothes rough against Jan's bare skin.

Nace slows at this, mouth hanging open as the words register. He lands something resembling a kiss on Jan's lips before sitting up to take his shirt off.

Jan follows, shuffling in a way that makes Nace slip out of him with an unholy noise. He's on his knees, helping his not-very-secret-boyfriend pull his shirt up over his head.

That's when he remembers the mirrors.

He looks to one, the perfect view of himself and Nace, both on their knees on the crumpled white hotel sheets, facing each other, arms looking surprisingly gentle and affectionate despite the roughness of their activities.

He looks to the other, the same scene from the other side. And between them, the same reflections stretching back forever, endless.

He caresses Nace's hair, and an infinite number of Jans caress an infinite number of Naces.

"We look good together," Nace says.

"Yeah," Jan agrees. "We really do."

He slips out of his trousers and returns to his position, both of them completely naked now in each others arms. Their skin is blushed red, hairy and muscular, just beginning to sweat, soft and sensitive under each other's touch.

In infinite number of Jans and Naces kiss on the lips, strong and slow, with tongue. An infinite number of Jans squeeze their Naces butts to pull him towards them. And infinite number of Naces reach of their Jan's cocks and listen to the whimpers that come from him at the pleasure of their touch. A Jan and a Nace gasp and moan that they love each other and their words echo, infinitely.

There's a knock on the hotel room door.

Room service.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

There was a lot of time spent painstakingly creating the art in this 1977 mid-century modern home in San Luis Obispo, California and it won the prestigious San Luis Beautiful House Award for architectural and aesthetic excellence. 4bds, 3ba, $2.15M. Check out this house of murals.

Foyer with double doors has a peacock theme. I can't tell if the art is mosaic b/c the photos are blurred. Above, they even decorated the skylight.

It's not only paint like the flamingos in the fireplace, but also mosaics, like the square on the wall.

The terrace off the living room has a mural on both walls.

The open living area consists of the formal living room, dining area, and kitchen.

The kitchen mosaics were done by hand, they're not store-bought sheets of mosaic tile, b/c of the color of the cabinets, I think I would've preferred a lighter more lively color.

The primary bedroom has a terrace. There's a mural in the corner.

Murals are also on both walls of this terrace, just like the one off the living room.

Interesting bath has a vintage style tub and a very modern sink.

In this room the mural is in the shower.

Another mural appears on the landing to the 2nd level.

The family room walls are lined in paintings.

There's another terrace off the family room that has a table and small fridge, plus a tropical fish mural.

A kitchenette downstairs is decorated with jewels.

This bedroom has all sorts of art.

A 3rd bedroom full of art.

This odd little room looks like it's all bed and it has a stone tub in the en-suite.

The grounds are beautiful and the view is amazing from up here on the mountain. This sink unit looks like it's deteriorating, so it will need some work.

There are patios and terraces, all with views.

So much lush greenery.

The rear of the house.

7,000 sq. ft. lot, so it doesn't have acreage and the neighboring houses are pretty close for a property that's priced at $2.15M and I'm not even sure if I like the art.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/295-Santa-Maria-Ave-San-Luis-Obispo-CA-93405/15426114_zpid/

[rockethorse]

Calcinidae Bay Lot Tour: Marine Discovery Centre

I finally got around to picking the terrains I wanted to use for Calcinidae Bay's subhoods, so the Bay now officially has a(n as-of-yet unnamed) Downtown! Yay! Let's take a look through the only currently-finished lot there, the Marine Discovery Centre and Aquarium.

First I wanna shout out @dirtfauna for suggesting I build an aquarium and getting me thinking about this in the first place! As I was putting on the finishing touches I was also inspired by seeing @lolabythebaysims's gorgeous lot influenced by the Belle Isle Aquarium.

Before I get into the lot, I need to show the original Sims 4 shell for reference. It's "what the.. shell?" uploaded to the Gallery by simbellaz, and as you'll see, it was both perfect for and wildly impractical as the basis for an aquarium.

I don't normally go for shell challenges that have so many internal walls, but all those little 1-tile-wide hallways were practically SCREAMING to be made into fish tanks! The external "walls" you see added to my TS2 shell are all either actually half-walls, fences, or just windows placed with moveobjects, all of which are allowed within a standard shell challenge. It may seem like a cop-out, but it's more limiting/challenging than you'd think.

But enough preamble. Let's take a look inside!

The entrance is also a small gift shop. It seems like every aquarium I've ever been to has also sold jewellery. Don't ask me about my tiny penguin earrings.

I really wanted a "fish tank tunnel" vibe, and the effect was... almost perfect, lol. Close enough for a shell challenge IMO. I so so badly wanted to break my CC-free rule to place some fish shaders, but I'm glad I stuck to my guns because I think the solution I came up with looks goofy but effective. (Plus you wouldn't see them in build/buy anyway.)

Ooohhhh jellyfish tank ooohhhhhh they're so lifelike and graceful

I have my fun.

That little "airlock" room is a fun pirate-y undersea exhibit that connects to the outside and is probably where school field trips would loop around rather than heading upstairs.

Through the pirate's cabin is a touch pool and tactile play room where kids can inspect rubber anatomical fish models. I like to imagine the TV plays a short looping movie featuring a B-grade celebrity talking to a cartoon bass about the water cycle, fish spawn, and pollution.

The outdoor area is where the field trip groups would probably eat their packed lunches, fill out activity sheets, and take a commemorative photo with the world's worst greenscreen that's supposed to make it look like you're underwater but just ends up eating half your hair and shirt.

If you're not a student and you're just here for the love of fish, you'd probably head upstairs to get a closer look at the fish tunnel, smaller specialty tanks, and the squid/octopus models. (This room is technically considered outdoors thanks to the shell so tbh I'm not sure how lighting/temperature would behave during gameplay.)

The third floor has more tanks, some hands-on displays about aquatic plants and marine ecology, and finally a room with the actual floor-to-ceiling aquarium objects.

I thought this would be an interesting lot to run as an owned business, so I included a small employee area tucked behind the guest toilet block on the ground floor. It also helped to naturalistically answer "how would Sims feed themselves if their outing wouldn't stop complaining they were hungry," a concern I keep in mind whenever I make a lot I think would be a nice place to take a date.

And here's the floorplan! This lot had a pretty severe ugly stage but I'm really really happy with what we ended up with and the vibe I achieved without any CC. Hope you enjoyed reading this far and that it could give you some decorating inspiration!

[yanverse]

I have to see my husband, show me Yuri. Please.

bbg i GOT chu husband incoming <33 i present to you my yuri magnum opus !!

"Mr. Maeda"

(cws: gn pronouns, work meet cute, office romance, a bit of petty theft, work-inappropriate kisses, obsessive & overprotective behavior, yuri's a lil secret creep)

wc: 3.3k

Here it is. The starting point of the rest of your life. You worried it might be some big, huge corporate building that you'd sooner get lost in than find your way to the office written on your little sheet of paper, but it was small enough to fit its two-story self smack dab on the corner of the avenue. Easy to access, walkable from where you just moved…and still terrifying. This was the only place that would hire you and the first job you'd had that was actually in your field, so to screw this up would ruin years of potential prospects if you ever decided to move upwards and onwards. There was a whole lot riding on this, but all you could do was swallow those doubts and keep your chin up as you pushed through the door and took your first step into the future. 

Ting-ing. A bell chimed overhead to signal your arrival, all other noise from the street growing muffled as the door closed behind you. It was…elegant. Even for an interior decorating office, it seemed lavish. The floors were shiny with fresh wax and the furniture was all arranged so delicately you wouldn't even want to sit, the waiting room off to your left and a showroom to your right while a long hallway extended past the front desk on the far side of the wall. It was all decorated in deep red and white tones for the most part along with some other complementary hues, all save for the bored-looking young woman at the desk who wore a baby-blue top and torn jeans. If nothing else, at least the dress code seemed pleasantly loose. 

"H..." You squeaked out your greeting like a shy mouse as you approached her, her eyes stuck to the pages of a book that laid open by her keyboard. “..H-Hello.”

"Yuri's by appointment only, please book online."

Her instructions came out as bland and monotone as you could ever imagine, a business card with the URL slapped down on the upper counter of her desk to stare right back at you. She hadn't peeled her eyes away from her reading for even a second, but when she did, it was because you'd cleared your throat and mustered up the courage to say that you were actually here for the job. 

"Here for the–oh!" The mere sight of you had her flipping her novel shut and getting up from her seat, her hand stuck out to greet yours as a look of embarrassment overtook her features. "I'm so sorry, I thought you were–e-er, never mind. Welcome! I'm Angel." 

Despite her relatively gentle appearance, the squeeze of her hand was strong–you had little space to dwell on those minor details though, as she briskly skirted around her desk to wave you towards the hall. "I'll take you back to meet Yuri, right this way." 

Clack. Clack. Clack. It wasn't her flats but your polished shoes clicking loudly on the tile, echoing your nerves in the silence that was only peppered by the distant hum of computers and occasional chatter. You'd no idea exactly how many agents worked here, just that it was a small agency. Less people to impress, but more intense scrutiny if you happened to disappoint them with your skills….or lack thereof. God, please let your heart stop beating so loud. Angel reached for a door near the very end of the corridor and you took a deep breath, one that was probably noticeable since she reassured you with a look and a curt smile as it opened. 

"Yuri! Your protégé is here," Her grin grew wider as you balked at her introduction, she patted your shoulder in parting and slipped away as you forced yourself through the doorway and into the brightly-lit office crammed with desks. Chairs had been tucked in tight to allow more room to manoeuvre since it was oddly cramped, but that was mostly because nobody sat in them; your coworkers either leaned against the desks or by the huge bay windows letting in the midday sun, and each and every one of their heads turned to face you once you took a step into their domain. Not one of them commanded your attention like he did, though. 

"Oh, please, Angel. Try not to embarrass me, would you?" His voice, airy and smooth, reached you where you stood and nearly buckled your knees before you even got a glimpse of him. The assembly that loosely surrounded him made way for his lithe frame to step around the furniture and head towards you, smiles creeping across their faces and whispers exchanged between them–it almost distracted you long enough not to look up once he finally stood in front of you. 

Oh no.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. Ah…" His eyes darted down from your feet to roam their way back up to your eyes in a single pass, so brief you might've thought it never even happened. "...A real pleasure, my sweet." Yuri's cool, soft hands clamped around yours in a gentle handshake, though he barely moved it and rather just held you there like he needed an excuse to stare longer. 

Oh, god. Your boss is too attractive to get anything done. 

"Y-You too, sir. I've really been looking forward to this." You tried not to stutter out your answer, though Yuri seemed endeared nonetheless and urged you to forget the honours, his grip just barely brushing you once more as he finally managed to drop your hand. 

"Let's…oh, what was I saying?" He blinked with an absent gaze, attention fixated on something over your shoulder before he came back down to earth. A quick glance in your peripheral betrayed nothing of note, aside from your own hair. But to think anything of that would be odd, and far be it from you to put your foot in your mouth in front of a boss that actually seemed to like you. "Oh! Right, right–why don't I show you around? We'll get you settled in a minute, but I'll give you a tour first." 

He extended an arm out elegantly towards the office, your new coworkers clamouring to get their introductions in to the fresh meat in their presence–yet in all the time he spent showing you around, Yuri didn't seem to take his eyes off you for more than a moment or two. 

Which was either a terrible omen of things to come, or a very, very good sign. 

The first three days of a new job were usually the most difficult, but a week had passed now and you could swear the hard part just wasn't coming. Every task you'd been given had been a breeze, and with no real assignments yet since you were still in the learning phase, you were practically getting paid to sit around, experiment with your room designs in the decorator software, and chat with your coworkers in between group lunches and the occasional outing to visit potential clients. 

The man that had now established himself as your boss was nothing at all like what you expected. Sure, your expectations were certainly lower after your last job plummeted you into financial hell and mental anguish, but you expected the top agent of the city's biggest interior design conglomerate to be somewhat prudish, egotistical, and impossible to please.

But Yuri Maeda was nearly the complete opposite of that. He was by no means lackadaisical, and he did carry a certain air of class about him in the way he walked and talked, but he was not at all like other bosses you'd worked for before. He remembered your name when you walked in the door, and he welcomed you with open arms. He was kind to you and spoke gently of your mistakes, and no matter what, he'd never raised his voice or talked down to anyone about anything. 

And he was so, so easy on the eyes. His age showed in nothing but his white hair and even that was more of a fashion statement than anything else–you wouldn't assume a man that barely crested 30 would be so rife with grays under normal circumstances. He didn't even dress like a boss; he'd foregone a suit and tie in exchange for loose, flowing clothing, his shirt hung low to show off his pronounced collarbones while his pants hugged tight to his hips and accentuated those long legs that just kept on going. You'd once asked about his background, and the way his face lit up at the chance to talk about his infancy in Morocco and adolescence in Japan had been the highlight of your day, no doubt. You'd rarely seen such a professional and well-bred man talk so excitedly of his roots while brewing you some coffee and pulling out old photos of his home countries. It was an almost childlike interest, and it endeared him to you even more if that was even possible. 

Yuri had a strange habit, however. At first you thought you were getting hazed by the frequency with which your office supplies was going missing, but soon you started noticing that whatever item you had lost would magically appear in Yuri's hands. You'd caught him with your pencil behind his ear, your colourful paperclips attached to his files, once you could've sworn that someone had taken a sip from the drink you'd left on your desk, though there was no way for you to prove that was even the case. 

Whatever was going on with that, it took a backseat to the unbelievably good treatment you were getting at the office. You couldn't make yourself mess this up on purpose–you had to try as hard as you ever had to make this work and make it last. Where else were you going to get such a nice boss that called you cute nicknames and bought you lunch on a whim? 

But soon came the day that you'd been scheduled to help your first client. You'd been excited leading up to it, eagerly absorbing every ounce of advice that Yuri provided as you prepared to flex your skills.

When you came back to the office in tears, however, that dream had clearly been shattered. Angel at the front desk could barely catch you before you dashed into the bathroom to hide, and even when she followed you in to see what was the matter she herself couldn't believe her ears.

“They hated it,” You sniffled from within the stall, your feet pulled up to press your knees to your chest as if the echoes of your sobs off the walls wasn't enough to tell that you were there. 

“Hated what?”

“Everything! They hated the colours, and my d-designs, they said they were terrible–the worst they've ever seen! They made fun of me!” You sobbed, the events of the morning sending fresh pains into your heart as you heard your own voice repeating them. Angel heaved a sigh from the other side of the bathroom door.

“I'm getting Yuri. Hold on.” 

“No, please, I–I can't let him see me like this, I-” Despite your pleas, the sounds of Angel's shoes pattering away left you feeling defeated, and you slumped your head between your knees. The shame and embarrassment of having such confidence, only to have it ruined in one fell swoop, felt like too much to bear. You wanted to run and hide forever, dig a hole deep enough and jump in. 

You wanted to quit, but you couldn't bear it if Yuri fired you–and after several minutes, hearing a sudden barrage of shouting that sounded like his voice outside the bathroom, you had a feeling that was exactly what was coming. You knew it was too good to be true. Deep down Yuri desired perfection, and you were not that–not even close enough to have tried. 

Just when you started to consider slipping out of the bathroom and facing the music rather than stay inside and keep sobbing pathetically, the door creaked open. Taut footsteps hesitantly stepped inside, and by the soft breathing, you knew exactly who it was. He rapped gently on the stall door with his knuckles. It took you a moment to slide off the closed lid of the toilet seat, the lock jiggling loudly in the eerie quiet as you slowly opened the door.

At first glance, he looked flushed and out of sorts. His hair was mussed, and his breathing was uneven. He had his inhaler in the hand at his side, but whether he had taken a puff or not already, you couldn't tell. The silence, save for that, was painful. 

Unsure of what to say, you looked back at him as he did the same to you. Your eyes were puffy and your cheeks tearstained and still wet, while his chest heaved hard enough that the quiet was finally broken decidedly by a click, and then a deep inhale of breath as he pressed his inhaler to his mouth. 

“Mr. Maeda? Are you…okay?” 

“How many times…” He trailed off, only to cough slightly into his arm, and take another deep puff of his medicine. With that, his lungs finally seemed to clear, and he could take deeper, longer breaths while slipping the inhaler into his pocket. “...I told you, don't have to call me that.”

“You're my boss.”

“I'm also your friend.”

“...Am I fired?” Your question twisted itself out, because it was inevitable to come off your lips, but it was so soft and meek you felt shameful yourself just asking it. Yuri shook his head.

“No, no you're not–you’re not fired, sweetheart. You're invaluable to my team. You're not going anywhere.” He seemed convinced beyond belief, but you weren't quite there yet. Despite his earnestness, despite his friendliness and charm that was distinctly Yuri, you couldn't quite bring yourself to trust that you were really that special in his eyes.

“Th-They hated my designs,” You sniffled, and brought your fingers up to smudge the tears that ran fresh down your cheek. You couldn't yet bring yourself to meet his eyes. “All of them. They said they were worthless, Yuri. They didn't like them.”

“I know.” He shook his head again, a twinge of something fierce coming over his expression. “They were wrong. Just so you know, I told them so over the phone.” He looked a bit sheepish, quietly rubbing the back of his neck. So that must have been the yelling you heard…

“Wh-What? Yuri, they were part of a big account, their main client-” 

“Listen, sweetheart.” He leaned in suddenly, using his height to his advantage as he loomed over you. Not in a menacing way, but more…almost protective, in a sense. “They were worthless. Don't think about them anymore. They weren't worth your designs, nor your time.”

It shocked you to hear him speak so callously of a client, when he had always shown nothing but utmost professionalism in dealing with even the most snobbish of customers. It seemed like there was almost a shift inside him, like something had snapped to make him shout those people down over the phone, and now had him nearly cornering you in the stall as he got closer and closer to you. Only your wide, nervous eyes managed to snap him out of his trance, and at your trembling he stepped back and brushed some hair out of his face as he cleared his throat. 

“You…value my professional opinion, don't you?”

You nodded with little hesitation, yet a lump in your throat forced you to swallow. “Yes, of–of course, Yuri.” 

“Then believe me when I say that you are far better than you think. You're smart, and very talented, and…kind, and…very, very lovely. You're a treasure to work with. I…” Even though he trailed off, his true intentions glimmered in those clear, pale eyes. “...I want you to forget everything they said to you, everything that made you cry today. They are but a speck on your life–not worth the slightest mention.”

You opened your mouth to protest on instinct; why did you deserve to feel better about it at all? Surely you must've done something wrong. You can't imagine your meager skills being worth such praise. But something was telling you that this was far deeper than the surface level of work, and Yuri just about confirmed it as he cut you off before you could get down on yourself further. 

“Believe me,” He took your cheeks into his soft, sweet-smelling hands, and brushed a stray tear away with his thumb. The gesture, as gentle as it was, almost brought you to more tears with how touching it was. “People that behave in such an…uncouth way don't deserve your attention. They don't deserve your love. Your affection. Your…” 

Only then did you realize how close Yuri's lips had drifted to yours. Your mouths were nearly closing in on each other, and but for any resistance on your part he would make no move to stop what was happening. This was not in your job description. 

But would you really stop him from kissing you when that's all you had fantasized of until now? A small, shy smile slowly made its way across your lips, and Yuri's followed soon after as he smoothly leaned in to claim a warm, firm kiss, with a more eager introduction to his tongue than you anticipated. 

A moment passed, then another, and in what seemed like ages but at the same time only a second he broke it off, his expression aghast–perhaps at realizing what he'd just done. Probably realizing that it was a terrible, terrible mistake. You stood meekly and on the cusp of a panicked fit as he brought the back of his hand to his lips, but soon the warmth in his cheeks tipped you off to what was truly stirring in his heart. 

“That was…unprofessional. I didn't mean to-”

“I-It's okay, Yuri-”

“-Not in the bathroom, gods.” He seemed preoccupied, your words barely registering. He ran his fingers back through his soft, white strands of hair and took on a look of sheepish delight. “You deserve better than that. Come, let's–to my office, let's go.” He ushered you out of the stall, his grip firm on your wrist like he was too nervous to try and hold your hand. 

“Yuri?” You called out, but he seemed in a daze. His breath was catching on every inhale like he was drowning in excitement, yet he was holding himself together just barely in your presence. He wouldn't make much eye contact with you, but when you did spot that look in his eyes…it seemed like he was in the midst of a calm frenzy, his exterior composed but his mind and heart all stirred up, roused, jumbled into a mess of feelings that he was trying desperately not to get lost in. He tilted his body away from you too, as if trying not to let you see him front-facing as if he had something he was nervously hiding. 

“T-Take these,” He suddenly piped up, and thrusted a set of delicate keys into your palm while he turned completely away from you. It was all he could not to just hide his flushed face completely in his hands. “Go wait in my office, I'll–I just need a moment to compose myself. Please.” Yuri whined, and at his behest you agreed and stepped out of the bathroom to give him some privacy. Hearing the lock click behind you made you a bit nervous, but as you made your way out and down the hall you fiddled with the keys and thought about all that Yuri had said. 

…What a strange, alluring boss he was indeed. But even so, even now, you wouldn't know even half of what Yuri was really capable of, nor what he had been planning for you since the day you walked into the office and captured his heart in your soft, beautiful hands.

[thatanimewriter]

RETROUVAILLES.

➳ synopsis: v. to meet again, especially after a long time apart

➳ character/s: hayama akira, tsukasa eishi, riku dola, morinozuka takashi, lie ren, winter schnee, qrow branwen, midoriya izuku, todoroki shouto, jirou kyoka, shinsou hitoshi, togata mirio, dedue molinaro, felix fraldarius, shamir nevrand, vi, ekko, dan heng, blade, gepard landau, fushiguro megumi, zen'in maki, nanami kento + any of your faves

➳ warnings: fantasy!au (character is a knight, you are the royal they serve), medieval shit, major character death, descriptions of blood, descriptions of injury, childhood friends to almost lovers, accidental murder lol, intentional murder, reader described as beautiful, hurt/no comfort, angst, gn!reader (as always)

➳ word count: 2k

➳ notes: the thing got graded finally, so you can now have it. sorry for any hurt feelings (not really, that was the whole point of the story-). character list is just some characters i DO write for that i think work for this story. also this won't be tagged properly, but it's fine

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭  / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

to them, the weight of their golden armour is equal to that of guilt and grief. the castle they swore to protect is a permanent reminder of their shortcomings, though they never expected to return so soon. their metal-clad figure decorates the deteriorating structure in flecks of fragmented sunshine along the sandstone hallways. the kaleidoscope of light is no longer disrupted by the servants’ shadows. instead, the faux sun lurks on the walls as they drag their feet along the floor. the scraping of metal along stone replaces the low murmurs of maids and the light footsteps of staff as they flitted around the castle. the echo is deafening, and they realise they despise silence. it isn’t true silence with the clanking of their armour, but it makes them painfully aware that they are a survivor. the rattling of metal causes them to be uncomfortably conscious of their isolated existence. glancing through ajar doors that line the walls, they longs for a semblance of home, yet they are met by blood-stained tile and mangled corpses littering the floor in unappealing heaps of sunken cheeks and open wounds. 

anita yasmine rosie luka penny william-

they step around them, gaze flickering to each of the faces paralysed by a still heart and wishes to lay with them, to feel the sticky black blood seep through their clothes and be held by the icy arms of death. they steel themselves against the pungent scent of rotting flesh, waving off the flies lingering around their head but failing to break through the helmet that conceals their shame and anguish.

the squeal of rusty hinges makes them close his eyes as they shakily exhale. their eyes flutter open at the quiet groan of the floorboards, and their breath hitches in their throat. it is as if colour returns to their vision, and they are several years younger, free of the faint crow’s feet stemming from the corners of their eyes and the dull ache in their chest.

it’s… the same. but you're not here.

silk sheets lay neatly atop the mattress, and the pillows remain meticulously arranged. they think if they sleep under the covers, they might smell your floral perfume on the pillowcases. they don’t entertain that idea. the sunlight filters through the translucent curtains, highlighting the blanket of dust that settles on the furniture and floor. the room hasn’t changed much since childhood; though it was sporadic, they were permitted inside. nonetheless, it was timeless. throughout all the phases of your life, it still felt like you.

they eye the vanity, clear of clutter but filled with nostalgia. the hairbrush is likely unusable – at least not without lacing dust and bugs through one’s hair – but it looked the same as when they originally gifted it. strands of hair weave between the bristles, and they wonder if their own locks are hidden away in the forest of DNA. 

the maids would have cleaned the hairbrush since I was a child.

they don’t touch anything; they knows what is tucked away in the drawers and boxes. there is one thing they allows themselves to taint with their touch. they pry a brick from the wall, reaching into the pocket of secrecy they’d made with you. a matted velvet box graces their armoured fingertips. they don’t feel the texture, but the box size is familiar. they carefully pluck it from the treasure trove of memories and broken promises, sliding the brick back into place. gently unclasping the box, they smile softly at the two rings that lay side by side. 

“one day, i’ll marry you!” they proclaim as you sit on the floor of your balcony. you giggle at their proposal and inquire about the rings you would wear if you married. “rings?” “you have to give me a ring to tell everyone that we’re getting married.” their little shoulders slump, and a pout forms on their lips. they sheepishly scuff their foot along the ground and tries to ignore the tears in their eyes. “...i don’t have one.” you sigh but give them a hopeful look. “but eventually you will?” they quickly brighten and grin through their tears as they lift their head to look at you. “yes! it’s gonna be like no other ring in the whole kingdom!”

they pocket the box and glance at the balcony. they kneel and bow their head, resting their right hand on their heart. when they rise, they look at the room before gently closing the door behind them as if you has retired for the night, and they don’t want to wake you. a practised method that hasn’t entirely left their bones.

as they descend the stairs to the ballroom, they nearly smile at the memory of the ball before the tragedy that befell the castle. they don't let it break through the perfectly crafted mask of neutrality. not when the ballroom floor is occupied by more lifeless bodies and darkened blood smears. they look to their side, wishing they could relive the memory of the ball and hoping they can look into your eyes as they escort you down the stairs, hoping you can share one last dance. 

but you're not here…

they raise their arms, supporting the memory of everything they long to return to, and waltz. there is no music, yet their timing is precise, and despite having no dance partner, their form persists. they ponder the events of the tragedy as they glide along the bloody floor and skirt around the dozens of corpses, each bearing a face they'd seen a million times and maybe even a little more. 

they can almost feel the weight of the spear they carried that day as they dance. they could hear your deafening scream as you were pulled into the crossfire. the sound follows them into their unconscious, a horrifying alarm. they never forgot the ache in their heart as their spear pierced through you. a human shield is a cowardly move in their mind, but the culprit had succeeded if the goal was to leave them with insurmountable guilt.

they come to a halt, bowing to the ghost of you. recalling your morning together beneath the gazebo, they gravitate to the imaginary scent of tea and pastries. the winter sun doesn’t fully reach them through the armour, and they attempt to resist the welcoming rays of warmth that beckon them to stay longer. they sit on the concrete bench they had called dibs on when they were twelve, ignoring the dull pain in their chest. slowly, they remove their armour. the metal feels warm despite the thin layer of ice along the lake the gazebo resided by. 

the metal plates rest neatly on the bench, and they shiver at the fresh, cool air that tickles their skin. they sigh and roll their shoulders free of lingering tension, allowing themselves a moment of tranquility. their eyes – drops of sunshine that had fallen from the heavens according to you – scanned the garden that built their childhood and adolescence. the twitch of their fingers goes unnoticed as they reminisce about their training to become a knight. the tightness in their throat is unacknowledged when they see the statue of you standing tall, proud and beautiful atop a marble pedestal. they wonder if the sculptor had taken a cast of you rather than building beauty with a reference. they clench their fist, imagining your fingers laced between theirs. they've memorised the sensation, embedding it into their brain each time your hands embraced over the years. flicking the box open, they let the rings fall into the palm of their hand.

“like no other in the kingdom”. heh… what an understatement.

they chuckle at their craftsmanship. it is what is expected when an eight-year-old finds wire to make a ring. they observe the jagged circle – if you could even call it that – and the haphazardly hidden wire ends that made them feel like an ant had bitten them. it was irritating beneath their little armoured hand, often coated in a thin layer of sweat, but now they crave the sharp sting that fades to a dull ache. perhaps the discomfort has travelled from their calloused and scarred skin to their weary bones and heavy heart.

they mindlessly hum a tune from their childhood as they unwind the wires, straightening them as best they can. their nimble fingers falter as their vision blurs, but they intertwine the wire into a band of love as the soft melody cracks and fades away. in their tunic, they shed responsibility and don youth while they recraft the rings as if they could rewrite history. the art of creating jewellery didn’t embed itself in their flesh and bones like combat did, despite their parents teaching them before they left the village.

a cold wind kisses their skin, and they wet their lips, gazing at their workshopped rings with a smile you claimed could warm even the most hostile souls. they rise with a newfound energy, standing before the ethereal marble effigy. their breath crystallises as they stare into the stony eyes of the statue, slipping a halo onto their ring finger. they don’t dare to tear their gaze away and finds their vision joining the misty gardens again. a short apology escapes them as they climb onto the plinth, slide the accompanying token onto your marble finger, and lay a chaste kiss on your icy forehead. they dismount the pedestal at the sound of shouting and is struck with a familiar paralysing experience. they can hear their pulse in their eardrums over the voices, and their limbs itch with the desire to escape.

no. i stay.

the faces that emerge from the tall grass aren’t familiar, but the old, blood-stained uniform brings ease. they don’t hear what the intruders declare over their heartbeat, but they focus on the sword shared between the looters. a sudden movement breaks their concentration, followed by a new ache in their abdomen, and they are acutely aware of the sword skewering their organs and poking through their tunic. the sturdy marble pedestal makes an ugly screech against the metal before meeting their back. they hiss when it’s pulled from its temporary sheath, dripping with red and shreds of tissue. the blood that coats the blade slides down the statue’s base, gathering in their hair and absorbing into their shirt. as they slump against the surface, they let their eyes flutter shut, and they faintly hear the footsteps of the intruders grow distant.

they frown as they lay on the lawn, ripping dry skin from their lips with their teeth. “can i ask you a question?” “you just did,” you respond with an ounce of playfulness.  “what if i fail?” you turn to face them with narrow eyes as if you dared them to elaborate. “what if i can’t protect you?” you stare for a moment as you debate your answer. they gaze into your eyes and look for a hint of uncertainty but is met with their insecurities as they reflect their image.  you flash a gentle smile and pick a blade of grass from their messy mop of hair. “i’ll see you soon, won’t i?”

a final smile tugs at their lips, and they exhale, weakly lifting their hand to look at the ring that failed to shine in the sliver of sunset light. the warmth disappears beneath the horizon, permitting the stars to adorn the navy skies, and their hand falls to the ground.

see you soon. i missed you. in our next life, maybe…